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PVBLIJMEfy :CHICA60' 


E H ('II,K Seiues.-No. 1, August 1, 1893. Issiu'cl Montlily. Subscription l’ri<-c. $fi.00 por ycnr, 
Knl<‘rtMl at (’liicairo Postotlic<‘ :is sccoiid-class matter 






THE MARCHIONESS 


A LOVER’S REWARD. 


BY 




JACQUES EDOUARD. 




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Let me sigh out at the same time my sufferings 
and mv D'easures. 

Montesquieu : — Temple of Guide. 
That death’s unnatural that kills for loving. 

Si . kespeare: — Othello. 



CHICAGO 


E. A. WEEKS & COMPANY 

263 & 265 Wabash Ave. 



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Copyrighted, 1893 
bv 

Z. A. WEEKS & COMPANY 
All rights reserved. 

A Lover's Reward. 





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^fsVI 






CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 


PAGE. 

The Boulevard des Italiens and its frequenters. — Fabiende 
Varny; his character and relations. — Uncle and Nephew. 

— A curious book. — Fabien accepts an office; causes of 
his decision. — From Paris to Naples. — The broken axle- 
tree. — The Arms of England Inn J 

CHAPTER II. 

I 

At table, and wdiat was said. — Relation of the strange ad- 
venture of Don Hermenegildo Saria. — The joyous guests. 

— The American Charles Rockwell. — “ You are mis- 
taken, gentlemen.” — The marquis relates the finale of 
Don Hermenegildo’ s story. — A feuilletonist against his 
will. — The marquis’ farewell. — Fabien continues the in- 
terrupted trip. — The carriage accident 24 


CHAPTER III. 

Fabien forms Madame de Montebard’s acquaintance. — The 
invitation. — A few words on Monsieur and Madame de . 
Montebard.— The marchioness’ character.— Fabien’ s first 
visit to the marchioness.— The impromptu ball.— A game 


4 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

of cards by two officers. — The stakes. — Madame de Mon- 
tebard leaves Naples for the villa Orso. — Fabien and the 
two Neapolitans 42 


CH AFTER IV. 

Fabien’s anxieties. — A night expedition on the Bay of 
Naples. — The plot. — The two cavaliers. — Peppe, the goat- 
herd. — The enconnter and the collo(iny which followed. 

— Lead against steel. — The provocation. — The arrival of 
the two cavaliers. — The pretext and the cause. — The 
duel 63 


CHAPTER V. 

Charles Rockwell’s portrait. — At San Carlo. — Intimate 
conversation between Fabien and Madame de Montebard. 

— A dangerous word. — Madame d’Astouans’ letter to her 
Cousin Fabien. — What was said concerning the mar- 
chioness during the evening party which took place at the 
palace of the Prince de Cassaro. — “Have you any ene- 
mies ?” — A decoy note. — Fabien’s escape from death. — 

, The bandit Gaspard. — Fabien at the house of the mar- 
chioness. — The avowal. — An original lover. — “ Show me 
my equal, and I will love.” — Nothing and everything. . . 79 

CHAPTER VI. 

What La Toresilla was. — A meeting of friends. — Fabien 
embarks in a strange enterprise. — The actress’ balcony. 
How Fabien’s adventure ended. — “ Gentlemen, break- 
fast !” 101 


CHAPTER VII. 

The day after the victory. — Conversation between Madame 
de Montebard and Miguel Rasconti. — In the Abruzzo. — 


CONTENTS. 


5 


PAGE. 

The storm; the hostelry; the bandits. — The aspect of the 
osteria. — The artist Horace Uidier and an encounter in 
the Abruzzo. — Madame de Montebard and the Puritani 
cavatina. — The highwayman. — Giacomo’s justice. — 
Miguel Rasconti’s reappearance. — Departure from the 
Abruzzo. — The dangers of the road. — Gaspard and 
Miguel; the latter’s death. The re-entry into Naples 119 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Madame de Montebard discovers how dear Fabien is to her. 

— “ To wait and act.” — Fabien’ s letter to the mar- 
chioness.— Visit to villa Orso. — Peppe’s confession. — Fa- 
bien prepares to go. — Madame de Montebard at Fabien’s 
house. — Why M. de Varny did not go. — Fabien’s love 
for the marchioness. — Ilis presentiments. — “Oh! wish 
not for such a love, it kills I ’ ’ — M. de Montebard’ s illness. 141 

CHAPTER IX. 

The marchioness’ absence. — Arrival at Naples of M. de 
Montebard, Monsieur and Madame d’Astouans. — The 
beginning of a mysterious drama. — Madame de Monte- 
bard and Madame d’Astouans.— Sequel to the mysteri- 
ous drama. — The pistols.— The end of the drama. — Death 
of the Marquis de Mont(>bar.l.— Joy and grief.— Fabien’s 
absence from Naples.— Charles’ perfidy.— Fabien’s re- 
turn. The villa Orso again 159 

CHAPTER X. 

A lover’s anguish.— Fabien and Charles.— “ To-morrow, 
we must fight ! ” — Every medal has two faces. — On the 
spot.— The death of Charles Rockwell.— The bloody hand- 
kerchief.— Fabien at Madame de Montebard’ s.— Fabien’s 
farewell to the marchioness.— A year after.— Fabien 


G 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

turns up again on the Boulevard des Italiens . — An uncle’s 
deception. — “ Who the devil invented women?” — The 
meeting at the ball. — “To-morrow! To-morrow!” — 

The last illusion. — Madame deMontebard and her uncle, 

M. de Hautemare. — The new aspirant. — “Fabien?” 
said she. — “ He is dead, Madame ! ” 176 

> CHAPTER XL 

CONCLUSION. 

What became of the marchioness ? — Grief ; illness ; con- 
valescence ; — resignation ; — consolation ; — forgetfulness 
— and marriage of Madame de Montebard. — The latest 
concerts and the first lilacs 196 


A LOVER’S REWARD. 


CHAPTER I. 

The Boulevard des Italiens and its frequenters. — Fabien de 
Varny ; his character and relations. — Uncle and Nephew. — 
A curious book. — Fabien accepts an office ; causes of his 
decision. — From Paris to Naples. — The broken axle-tree. — 
The Arms of England Inn. 

Every one who frequented the Boulevard des 
Italiens knew Fabien de Varny. Of all those 
who made its small arcades and the passage to 
the Opera their daily promenade, he was certainly 
the most regular ; and the fashionable idlers of 
Paris who assembled there, were always ready to 
salute him graciously, whenever they chanced to 
meet him, which usually occurred three or four 
times a day. 

A kind of occult camaraderie unites all these 
promenaders who compose what one of the most 
noted French novelists — Henri Murger — calls, in 


8 


A ZOVI^B'S BZJrABD. 


his picturesque language, the Bolieme de Paris : — 
men of all kinds and conditions, rich and poor, 
noble and plebeian, journalists and scions of dis- 
tinguished families, artists and fops, amongst whom 
could be found a number of Avell-dressed swindlers 
with curled mustaches, who live by means best 
known to themselves. 

Some of these have eaten up their patrimony, 
the majority of them never possessed any ; how- 
ever, they all manage to dine every day, to after 
take their supper and sleep somewhere, — at home 
if they have one, if not, elsewhere. They have 
very little occupation, if any ; their principal bus- 
iness being to walk, coming — one could not say 
whence, going — to the devil if he wants them. 

Amongst this motley crowd, that we might 
rightfully designate as sharpers, — had not the 
French language become too polite to give every- 
thing its proper name, — are some who have prac- 
ticed this easy calling since the second Restoration. 
They wear their gray whiskers jauntily cut in the 
latest style ; set their hats on one side of their 
heads, stretch out their legs and impertinently 
smile or throw glances at the ladies who turn the 
corners of the rue Lepelletier and the rue Grange- 
Bateli^re, these two opera boundaries. 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


9 


Not that tliere is not amongst this citizen-like 
condottieri of our very conservative empires^ some 
very good and loyal young men ; hut, to speak 
frankly, they are not in the majority in this BoJieme., 
which would lose its originality, if it lost its doubt- 
ful virtue. 

Amongst them, however, Fabien de Varny 
counted a large number of fellows with whom he 
shook hands. Notwithstanding that he would have 
been puzzled to tell how he first came to know 
them ; but Paris, of all other places, is certainly 
the city where the least attention is paid to this 
sort of thing, and this, no doubt, accounts for the 
indifference every one exhibits thither in regard to 
forming acquaintances. 

Regardless of weather or season, Fabien walked 
regularly every afternoon, from two to six o’clock, 
— on the boulevard if the weather was fine, in the 
arcades, if it rained, — and these promenades very 
often extended up to midnight. He never interro- 
gated himself as to the motive which led him there 
so constantly, but he found a singular pleasure in 
leading an aimless life. 

With hands philosophically hidden in the pockets 
of his Cossack pantaloons, smoking a cigar, and 
* Epoch of the reign of H. M. Napoleon III. 


10 


A LOVEB^S BEWABB. 


leaving his eyes and thoughts to wander at will, he 
seemed the most sedate and thoughtful person in 
the world. 

But a few years had elapsed since the death of 
his father and mother left him heir to a fortune 
of six thousand francs per annum, upon which he 
lived. 

But with this sum, when one does not work, and 
especially — as was the case with Fabien — when a 
taste for elegant things and for liigh living has 
been acquired, it could not be expected that he 
would always succeed in making his income last 
till the end of the year. 

Indeed, Fabien, who had never learned to count, 
would often have found himself sadly perplexed if 
it were not for an honest uncle, living in the suburb 
of Saint-Germain, who came to his rescue and paid 
his deficits with a devotedness of which the young 
man kept a memorandum in his heart. 

This uncle, who had been a peer of France during 
the revolution of July, and who had grown tired 
of living alone in his De Varennes Street hdtel^ 
often urged Fabien to come and live with him ; 
but as Fabien could not bring himself to cross the 
bridges, he had ever refused him under a thousand 
excuses. This good-natured man, already old and 


A LOVBB’S BmVABD. 


11 


very rich, knew not how to expend the rents which 
had accumulated in his notary’s hands, and to kill 
time, spent his days running to the past, present, 
and expectant future ministers. 

He knew better than the office boys all the cor- 
ridors of all the ministries, and could call the 
bailiffs by their own names, which gave him a cer- 
tain kind of authority in the eyes of common 
petitioners. 

Half of the influence he had attained — as is the 
case with more than one man of our times — was 
due to his being seen so regularly in the company 
of these magnates ; — his title did the rest. 

M. de Salville was extremely anxious for his 
nephew to adopt a political career, and would 
have been only too glad to exert his influence in 
his behalf. Fabien, however, was even less 
manageable than on the one previously men- 
tioned. 

Neither did marriage enter into the young man’s 
ideas ; so that his nephew’s future prospects were 
the one thing that disturbed the calm, easy exist- 
ence of M. de Salville, and in fact became his bete 
noire. 

He had given his only child, a daughter, in mar- 
riage to M. d’Astouans, who was a referendary 


12 


A LOVERS BEWABD. 


councilor at the Court of Accounts, and, to her, 
he often spoke of his uneasiness in regard to his 
nephew’s future. » 

Madame d’Astouans was very fond of her cousin, 
who heartily returned her affection, and as they 
lived in the same neighborhood, he, in the rue 
Neuve-des-Mathurins, and she, in the rue Basse- 
du-Rampart, they frequently saw each other. 

It was even reported that if Fabien had been 
willing to submit to his uncle’s wishes, his cousin 
Henriette would have become Madame de Varny, 
and a certain class of his acquaintances considered 
him greatly to blame for letting such an opportu- 
nity go by, when, by means of it, he might have 
secured a fortune. But these ideas of speculation 
were repugnant to Fabien’s pride; he would not 
have entered into anything against his conscience 
or honor for all the wealth of the Indies. 

He had, besides, taken no pains to change the 
tender friendship his charming cousin evinced for 
him into a feeling of love. On the contrary, he 
had, in all sincerity, congratulated M. de Salville 
on his happy choice of a son-in-law. 

With one exception, Fabien possessed all the 
qualities which command success. Without being 
what one would call a handsome man, he, never- 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


18 


theless, was pleasing both in face and form ; and 
his agreeable manners and uniform good-nature, 
completed the favorable impression he created at 
first sight. 

He had sufficient tact to converse with all with- 
out wounding the feelings of any, and intelligence 
enough to understand wliat he had not taken the 
pains to acquire. As regards courage, he had, in 
several instances, proved that he was not devoid 
of it, and the ladies, who are the best judges of 
such matters, did not fail to appreciate this ; but 
still he gave no sign that he would take advan- 
tage of their general admiration. 

He was, in every respect, a very reserved man ; 
but truth compels us to state that, aside from feel- 
ings of the heart, his discretion was nothing more 
than indifference : he would forget the day follow- 
ing, what had been confided to him the previous 
evening. 

He could not help having friends, for, in addi- 
tion to all this, he had a habit of never refusing 
an invitation to a party, a country jaunt, or a sup- 
per ; had always fifty or hundred francs to throw 
into a purse which an adventure or carnival had 
emptied ; could cheerfully endure the most dreary 
pleasantries and listen patiently to the most extrav- 


14 


A LOVEE'S REWARD. 


agant stories, were they even as long as those of 
Scheherezade. 

There is no telling to what eminence Fabien 
might have attained by a little energy on his own 
part, for he could easily have made steps of the 
shoulders of all those around him : — but this was 
precisely the quality he was deficient in. 

Strange as it may appear, although surrounded 
by such infiuences, Fabien was not of a frivolous 
turn of mind. Grave personages with wJiom he 
had conversed on serious matters and on current 
topics, were pleased to say that they discovered in 
him a great intelligence and an uncommon facility 
for adapting himself to the rudiments of science, 
and of readily solving problems he had never 
studied. In these things, he displayed great nat- 
ural resources we should say spontaneously, and 
he gave proof of a ready wit rightly helped by a 
wonderful fiow of language. We must also state 
that those faculties were strongly aided by a re- 
markable memory : he had only to read a book or 
to listen to a demonstration to retain its substance, 
and, when the circumstances demanded, recollec- 
tion of these readings and conversations would 
return in full to his mind. 

Fabien, however, was not fond of argument, but 


A LOVERS 8 REWARD. 


15 


when the occasion offered, resigned himself indif- 
ferently to it, and this indifference was to his in- 
tellect what the shell is to the turtle, an impene- 
trable armor. 

Whenever M. de Salville would meet his nephew, 
either on the boulevard, or at a hall, he would seize 
him by the aiTu and submit him to a conversation 
that Fabien endured with marvelous resignation. 

“ Well, Fabien,” his uncle would say, “what 
have you been doing since I last saw you ? ” 

“ I have been walking,” said the nephew. 

“ That is not an occupation ! ” 

“ More serious than you think, uncle ; it takes 
up all my time.” 

“ You will never change, then?” 

“ I am too much afraid to lose.” 

“ Have you considered the proposition I made 
you ? The Minister is very much inclined in your 
favor, and, by my influence, you can have your 
name in the columns of the Moniteur to-morrow, 
if you wish.” 

“ God preserve me from it ! I prefer to be else- 
where ; here, for example.” 

“ But consider, Fabien, that you may be able to 
reach everything.” 

“ I prefer to reach nothing ; this amounts to 


16 


A LOVERS S BEWABD. 


almost the same thing and gives one less 
trouble.” 

“ Undoubtedly ; but when you are as old as I 
am, you will perhaps think as I do.” 

“ Then, I shall act like you. W e will wait till 
that time comes. You know, besides, that if I 
accepted an office I should try to perform its duties 
better than anybody else. I have certain principles 
on that subject that nothing can alter ; I don’t know 
whether I am inspired by a consciousness of duty 
or self-love, but I must say that. To strictly fulfill 
such a charge, no matter of how little importance, 
would require too much time and care. This is 
why I do not like to do anything.” 

“ You have no end in view, then ? Nothing you 
wish to gain ? ” 

“ What is the use, when we have not had any 
beginning f ” 

“ Be reasonable, my friend. ” 

“ It is because I have so much sense that I am 
nothing. Fools work, the wise look on ! ” 

“ You might, at least, get married.” 

“ What necessity is there for two to get weary ? 
Is there not already too much of this lonely ennui ? ” 

“ But, my friend, you would never become tired 
of a woman you loved.” 


A LOVERS REWARD. 


17 


“ That would be still worse. I have again my 
own theory of love. I would shrink from a wife 
that I did not love, and if I loved her, this affec- 
tion would absorb my whole life. Genius struggles 
with love, and its power is exalted by the ardor of 
the passion ; I have the misfortune or the advantage, 
whichever you choose to term it, to be but a very 
ordinary man, so in my ease, my individuality would 
be annihilated in this feeling^” 

“ Henriette thinks, however, that you are wrong 
in remaining unmarried.” 

“ If I were M. d’Astouans, I would say that 
madame was right.”' 

“ So you won’t make any decision ? ” 

On the contrary, uncle, I have decided on mak- 
ing a book,” said Fabien, laughing. 

“ Ah ! ” 

“ A book wherein I prove the inutility of labor.” 

“ If you are as well qualified in theory as in 
practice, it will be a successful work.” 

“ It will be finished the day after my death.” 

“ You are a fool ! ” 

“ The world has ever slandered philosophers ! ” 

The uncle and nephew had discussed these mat- 
ters frequently, during the past four or five years, 

Madame d’Astouans sometimes taking a part, but 
2 


18 


A ZOVUB^S BZWABZ. 


she often ended the discussion by joining with her 
cousin and carrying him away with her to the Bois 
de Boulogne^ or to the ThSdtre des Italiens, 

However, as there is no power that patience may 
not control, no obstacle that it will not eventually 
overcome, it happened, one day, that M. de Salville 
almost swooned with joy, on hearing Fabien de 
Varny say that he would accept an office. 

The excellent peer of France could not believe 
it ; he flung himself on his nephew’s neck, nearly 
suffocated him with his embraces, and to prevent 
his reconsidering his decision, he obliged Fabien to 
pledge him his word, without troubling himself as 
to the motives which had induced him to say yes. 

These motives were, nevertheless, very singular 
ones. Madame d’Astouans was less discreet or less 
prudent than her father, for she asked her cousin for 
his reasons, and he ingeniously related them to her. 

It was the time when the Parisian edileship, 
taken unawares by the craze for improvement 
which affects all municipal administrations, re- 
solved to improve tlciQ Boulevard des Italiens by 
leveling and laying down a new kind of pave- 
ment. This, in the mean time, blocked up the 
side-streets, opened quagmires under the walkers’ 
feet, and raised barricades between their legs. 


A LOV^'B^S BBJVABD. 


19 


To complete Fabien’s misfortunes, the workmen 
had invaded the two arcades of the passage to the 
Opera, in order to lay certain gas and water pipes, 
with which they were experimenting. 

For a month, boulevard and passage were alike 
impracticable, and he could endure it no longer. 
Interrupted in his customary walk and disturbed 
in his habits, he abruptly decided to quit the city, 
thinking it would be a matter of indifference to 
him whether he suffered in Paris or elsewhere. 

The office proposed to him was the secretary- 
ship to the embassy at Naples. M. de Salville 
snatched it from the Minister, passing valiantly 
over the bodies of three deputies who were eager 
to get it for their sons, and of five diplomatists 
who were asking it for themselves. 

There was great surprise and no little excite- 
ment amongst the BoMme of the Boulevard des 
Italiens^ when they learned that Fabien had ac- 
cepted it. Several of the members refused to 
believe it ; the most skeptical betting five to one 
that the thing was utterly impossible ; the others 
were content to ridicule the idea, and Fabien had 
some difficulty in convincing even the most mod- 
erate of the truth of his intended journey. 

The Moniteur^ in its official columns, gave the 


20 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


last blow to the unbelievers ; but when the day 
arrived for the young secretary to take the oaths 
at the Tuileries, he was probably more astonished 
than any one else. 

“ I must be dreaming ! ” said he, looking at his 
embroidered uniform. 

“ No, indeed ! ” quickly replied M. de Salville 
who was watching him closely, lest he might yet 
make his escape. “ You understand at last the 
necessities of our social organization ; you now see 
the wisdom of my repeated remarks, and you will 
yet win a place amongst your fellow-citizens ; ren- 
der yourself useful to the public ; make your name 
illustrious by the honorable employment of your 
mental faculties, and take your part of labor in 
the social work.” 

Fabien was stunned on hearing this speech. 
He could not believe that he could ever either 
desire or accomplish so much. But, while his 
uncle was speaking, a thought crossed his mind. 

“It seems to me, uncle,” said he without 
employing any periphrasis, — which proved at once 
that he was taking his place in the category of 
diplomatists who believe that the right line is the 
shorter way from a negotiation to a treaty, — “ it 
seems to me, that I won’t be able to cut a very 


A ZOV-EB^S BZWABZ. 


21 


fine figure, in Naples, with my six thousand francs 
a year, even if I do add to it the salary of a secre- 
tary.” 

“ Six thousand francs ! ” exclaimed the peer of 
France with indignation ; ‘‘ you will have twelve ! 
twenty ! thirty ! as much as you want. You can 
draw on me as on a target, my pocket-book is here 
to receive the blows. A nephew of mine, who 
becomes a secretary of embassy, will never want 
for anything ! ” 

“ However ” 

“ Silence ! I know too well what I owe to the 
government and our institutions.” 

Fabien, of course, had no right to oppose him- 
self to these proofs of devotion that his uncle was 
so anxious to bestow on the government and the 
institutions. He, therefore, resigned himself to 
his fate, and, one beautiful morning, set out for 
Naples. 

Meanwhile the Inspectors of the Public Works 
of Paris went on with their work of tearing up 
the boulevard. 

As soon as Fabien arrived in Marseilles, he 
devoted two hours to visit the curiosities of a 
town which has none ; and when the time expired, 
he learned that the steamer which had been an- 


22 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


nounced to make the trip to Italy and tlie Orient, 
would not sail till the following day. He at 
once re-entered his carriage and decided to make 
the trip by land, perhaps because it was a longer 
and more expensive journey ; for Fabien abhorred 
cheap travel. 

Besides, he did not care to travel post-haste 
through the country, skipping, as many travelers 
do, from town to town, reminding one of stones 
thrown in the water, which bound from wave to 
wave. 

Fabien, like our English friends, crossed Italy 
right royally ; traveling a few hours of each day, 
and, sometimes, going out of his way, to catch a 
glimpse of towns and cities whose tall spires could 
be seen in the distance. 

He had nearly reached Naples, when one of 
those accidents with which the opera libretti has 
made us so familiar, obliged him to halt in a mis- 
erable little hamlet for repairs. The axle-tree of 
the carriage was broken, and the village black- 
smith told him that a delay of three or four hours 
would be necessary to put it again in traveling 
order. 

In the mean time, Fabien, who was in no hurry 
to reach Naples, stepped into a wayside inn, 


A BBWABI). 

before which swung a sign bearing the inscription, 
Alle arme d' Inghiltera^ above which some Nea- 
politan Raphael had painted a yellow leopard 
with frightful claws and teeth, on a blue back- 
ground. 


24 


A LOVER^S REWARD. 


CHAPTER II. 

At table, and what was said. — Kelation of the strange advent- 
ure of Don Hermenegildo Saria. — The joyous guests. — The 
American Charles Kockwell. — “ You are mistaken, gentle- 
men.” — The marquis relates the finale of the Don Hermene- 
gildo story. — A feuilletonist against his will. — The marquis’ 
farewell. — Fabien continues the interrupted trip. — The car- 
riage accident. 

A COMPANY of dusty and blustering wagoners, 
monks, and strolling virtuosi^ each eating of an 
earthen dish filled with macaroni, were seated 
around a large table, the end of which was occu- 
pied by four or five young men of good appear- 
ance. 

Fabien looked around for a cliair and table for 
himself ; but there was no other table in the din- 
ing-hall. Observing him, the young men pushed 
their chairs closer together, and invited him to seat 
himself beside them. 

He had no choice ; and besides, the invitation 
was given so good-naturedly and with so much 


A LOVERS S REWARD, 


25 


delicacy, that Fabien accepted it without hesi- 
tancy. 

The discussion at the table was very animated, 
and Fabien soon ascertained that he was in the 
company of gentlemen. 

The subject of conversation was an adventure 
that for some weeks previous had caused much 
excitement in Naples, and had been very generally 
commented on. 

Fabien, who knew nothing about this story, 
wished to form some idea of this city to which 
accident had led him, and while he was eating his 
roasted hecajicos and ravioli,, listened with great 
attention to the remarks which were whirled out 
with Italian volubility. 

“ A strange adventure, indeed,” remarked a 
young man with a finely shaped head and glossy 
black hair ; “ it reminds one of romantic Spain ! ” 

“ We had better make our wills before we leave 
for a rendez-vous ! ” exclaimed the one sitting to 
the right of the secretary ; “ my opinion is that it 
is always advisable to go to confession before one 
falls in love.” 

“ But to begin with, did she love him ? ” 

“A queer question! Would she have left her 
blind open if she had not waited for him, and 


26 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


would she have waited for him if she had not 
loved him?” 

“ That is no proof.” 

“ It is a conclusive one for me. In matters of 
gallantry, the proverb that says we must never 
depend on appearances is incorrect ; in this case, 
form is everything, substance nothing.” 

“ Pshaw ! who can tell when the comedy of love 
first begins ? ” 

“No matter! I Avill readily acknowledge that 
no woman loves me, provided that they all show 
me that they do.” 

“ But, gentlemen, this is not the question,” said 
a jolly fellow with a red face. “We want to find 
out what became of the unhappy Don Hermene^- 
gildo Saria.” 

“ He must be dead. It is not far from the Signora 
Marcelina’s balcony to the sea,” said another, who 
wore his whiskers A V Espagnole. 

“ Perhaps the marquis killed him.” 

“Stabbed him?” 

“ And, why not ? After all it would be only 
right.” 

“ Right might allow it, but politeness forbids 
it.” 

“ One thing is certain, that if husbands begin 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


27 


to play with stilettos, we have nothing left but to 
take the cowl.” 

“ Let us not be too pretentious. How many 
among us would enter a monastery ? ” exclaimed 
the young man with the Grecian profile. 

“ Could it be possible Don Hermenegildo took 
refuge in the Camaldules ? ” 

“ If so, we would hear of it, and no one has seen 
him since the sixth of July.” 

“Has any one seen the marchioness since that 
time?” 

“ I have ! I have ! ” exclaimed four or five voices. 

“ Undoubtedly, she looked tired, pale and sor- 
rowful, and with bowed head, reminding one of 
Toresilla in Norma ” 

“ Not at all ; but cheerful, lively, smiling and 
ever pretty as Stellita in H Barhierer 

“ Oh ! these women ! ” said a blonde youth, cast- 
ing a glance, gloomy as Gray’s Elegy, towards 
heaven. 

“ Has any one spoken to her of her victim ? ” 

“I did,” said a tall cavalier stroking a long 
mustache worn In the fashion of the time of the 
Ligue; “ and she laughed at me.” 

“ She loved him, nevertheless.” 

“ To tell you the truth, I don’t believe it.” 


28 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


“ He followed her everywhere ! ” 

“ He was her shadow ! ” 

“ At the ball, in her box at the opera, out walk- 
ing, beneath her Avindows, who was always visible ? 
Don Hermenegildo, and he, alone.” 

Then she did not love him. Happy men are 
prudent,” cried the young man with short whis- 
kers. 

“ When they are not reckless,” replied the long- 
haired cavalier with a smile. 

“Does any one know exactly how it all hap- 
pened ? I come from Capua where the story has 
been related in different ways by the officers of 
the Princess’s regiment,” said the young man with 
a fair complexion. 

“ Here is the version which seems to be the most 
correct ; I got it from a St. January bell-ringer who 
is the lover of one of the maids of Madame de Mon- 
tebard. You all know that, for seven or eight 
months past, Don Hermenegildo Sari a was paying 
assiduous attentions to the marchioness,” replied 
the one whose beautiful head Fabien was admir- 
ing. 

“ He was your successor,” interrupted the stout 
young man. 

“ And he resembled me, too, in his folly. Bou- 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


29 


quets and billets-doux^ were wasted, and sighs and 
serenades were alike unheeded by the beautiful but 
unimpassioned marchioness. Don Hermenegildo 
was persevering, however.” 

“ It is strange that she survives it all.” 

“ Ennui does not kill ; at best, it only makes one 
drowsy. But who has ever sounded that abyss we 
call a woman’s heart ! For some reason best known 
to herself, Madame de Montebard suddenly changed 
her manner towards the Spaniard. Her brusque- 
ness became benevolence, her c'oldness amiability, 
her irony compassion. In short, she had begun to 
pity him. Then, one night — it happened about 
midnight — a man enveloped in a large cloak glided 
noiselessly into the garden where Madame de Mon- 
tebard used to walk while all Naples was asleep. 
This man sprang lightly over the wall, opened a 
door of which he had the key, and ascended the 
stairs that led to the private apartments of the mar- 
chioness. All at once, a light shone tlirough the 
window, a blind was hastily raised, and a man — it 
was Don Hermenegildo — stepped out in the strong 
light now flooding the balcony ; a ladder falls, he is 
about to descend, when a firm hand is laid on his 
shoulder, and he is brought back into the room : the 
light is extinguished, and suppressed murmurs pass 


30 


A LOVJEB^S BUWABjD. 


between the lowered groves of the blind ! — Desde- 
mona was, perhaps, weeping at Othello’s feet.” 

“ Her husband ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly ! the Deus ex machina ! ” 

“ Is this husband well known ? ” 

“ Very little. I never saw him.” 

“ Neither have I. He is eccentric ; something 
like a diplomatist grafted upon an antiquary. He 
travels continually for the benefit of our gracious 
sovereign, and signs treaties while collecting old 
sous, which are called medals in archaeological 
jargon.” 

“ It appears that on the night referred to, the 
devil, who served him in the capacity of a coach- 
man, maliciously brought him back to his mansion. 
In the morning, a patrol passing near the garden- 
wall, perceived the ladder against the balcony. The 
lidtel was silent; and since then, Don Hermenegildo 
has not been seen. His letters await him at home, 
where he has not re-appeared ; no one knows any- 
thing of his whereabouts, and all search for him has 
been in vain.” 

“The marquis must have buried him in his 
garden.” 

“ Or in one of his cellars.” 

“ Perhaps he enclosed him alive in a cabinet and 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


31 


walled the door. Antiquarians have ferocious 
instincts.” 

“ Or poisoned him with Pompeiian hemlock.” 

“ And, to give him the scientific appearance of 
a mummy, has amused himself by embalming him.” 

“ In brief, whether by the sword, by fire, or by 
poison, Don Hermenegildo is dead.” 

“ You are mistaken, gentlemen 1 ” suddenly ex- 
claimed a large, good-natured looking man with a 
florid complexion who, for an hour past, had occu- 
pied a seat at that part of the table left vacant by 
the Neapolitan wagoners. 

The young men started and all looked towards 
the interlocutor. By their glances, Fabien con- 
cluded that none of them knew who this man was. 

“ What did you say, sir ? ” replied one of the 
gentlemen, with a smile that clearly showed his 
anger. 

“ I said that you were all mistaken.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed the cavalier with the mus- 
tache, “ and do you pretend, sir, to be better in- 
fer nied than we are ? ” 

“ I make such pretensions,” replied the large 
gentleman, as he carved a partridge that was just 
placed before him. 

“ Five gentlemen here are very curious to 


32 


A LOVERS BEWARD. 


acquire the proof of it,” said the young man who 
had related the story so attentively listened to by 
Fabien; “let me tell you our names,” added he 
rising : 

“Antonio De Ponte-Vecchio, captain of the 
guards ; Miguel Rasconti, lieutenant in the Syr- 
acuse dragoons ; Orlando Lacari, huntsman ; Max 
de Rheiss, officer of the huntsmen; Monsieur . . .?” 
directing towards Fabien an interrogative look. 

“ Fabien de Varny, secretary of the French 
embassy,” said the other. 

“ And your servant, Charles Rockwell, tourist,” 
continued the young man, “ who would all be 
delighted to listen to the explanation that you, 
doubtless, are able to give us ; but before hearing 
the story, we would be glad to know to whom we 
shall be indebted for the honor of learning the 
truth?” 

“To the Marquis Alexandre de Montebard,” 
answered the good-natured man, bowing. 

The six young men saluted him. 

There was a moment’s silence, broken at last by 
the American tourist, who seemed the most reso- 
lute of the company. 

“We acknowledge, M. le Marquis,” said he, 
“ that you, better than anybody else, are in a posi- 


A LOVEirS EJE:\VAliD. 


33 


tion to know how the affair happened, for you 
were there when Don Hermenegildo arrived. You 
have not killed him, then ? ” 

“ I have neither stabbed, poisoned, nor buried 
him ; neither did I make a skeleton, nor a mummy 
of him.” 

‘‘ Then, how did you behave towards him ? ” 

“ I invited him to supper.” 

The young men looked at each other, stupefied. 

“ You seem astonished at tfiat, gentlemen ? ” 
continued the marquis, who took care, in the 
mean time, to attend to his meal; “he certainly 
made some objections at first, but finished by 
accepting, and we sat at table together.” 

“And tete-d-tSte f added Fabien. 

“ Not at all ; Madame de Montebard kept us 
company. In place of hemlock, I poured out for 
him some Falernian wine found under the ruins 
of Herculaneum. He had the politeness to pro- 
nounce it excellent.” 

“ It was the least he owed you.” 

“ I admit that he uttered an exclamation on 
seeing me ; it was because he had doubtless mis- 
taken the flat Etruscan candlestick I carried for 
a dagger.” 

“ You stopped him, however ? ” 


34 


A LOVI^H^S BBIVABI). 


“ Certainly. If he had been seen coming down 
from my balcony at one o’clock in the morning, 
people would have believed that he was in good 
luck, and I was anxious to save his reputation 
from being belied.” 

‘‘ It was a noble revenge.” 

“ The amours of our day are unworthy of any 
other. Do you think I cared to make my wife 
play the rdle of Jane Shore ? Because a Cata- 
lonian hidalgo casts his eyes too closely on the 
marchioness, would you wish that I should mete 
out to him the fate of Rizzio ? This, gentlemen, 
is no longer the custom of the world, and anti- 
quarian though I am, I understand modern ideas.” 

“ I have no doubt of it, M. le Marquis,” answered 
Charles with an unaccountable smile, in which 
irony was mixed with politeness ; “ but you did 
not tell us how this wonderful supper termi- 
nated.” 

‘‘ Apparently, as all repasts end : by an ami- 
cable interchange of toasts. Madame de Monte- 
bard was in a charming and cheerful state of 
mind.” 

“ She is a woman of such brilliant wit ! ” said 
Antonio de Ponte-Vecchio. 

“ By the time the decanters were emptied, the 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


35 


soft, rosy glimmer of the aurora could be seen 
through the windows. Madame de Montebard 
then retired.” 

“ It was the hour for vengeance ! ” 

“ It was the hour for sleep ! Notwithstand- 
ing my desire to be agreeable, I cannot gratify 
you on this point, for there was neither poisoned 
cup, nor Carthagenian sword in all this.” 

“ Nevertheless, Don Hermenegildo Saria has 
disappeared ! ” exclaimed Orlando, the hunts- 
man. 

You mean to say he is gone,” retorted the 
antiquary. 

“ Gone ! ” repeated the group of young men. 

“ Indeed, yes ! he went on board of a tartane 
which sailed for Malta.” 

“ I understand,” said the lieutenant Miguel, 
“ you had him arrested by three or four sbirros and 
led, bound, on board the tartane.” 

^‘I would have you remember, sir,” said the 
corpulent diplomatist crossing his hands upon his 
round abdomen, “ that there are no more sbirros. 
Don Hermenegildo took it upon himself to execute 
this trip, which I did not urge him to accomplish 
in the least. When my wife left us, I arose, and, 
taking my companion by the arm, amused myself 


86 


A LOVUR'S Ri;fVARD. 


by showing him my art galleries, which he had the 
extreme politeness to admire. While conversing 
on Greek art, we arrived at my door : it was day- 
light, and with the exception of two or three 
fried-fish peddlers the city was asleep. I pointed 
out the deserted causeway to my guest, and we 
separated.” 

“ And he did not say anything to you ? did 
nothing ? ” exclaimed Charles. 

“ What do you think he could do against a 
husband ? ” 

“ Oh, indeed ! If I had been in his place, the 
thing would never have gone off in that passive 
style,” said Captain Antonio. 

“ You speak very easily, sir, but it is evident you 
are ignorant of what it is to have a midnight 
interview with a husband. If you knew what 
terrible power we possess, when we appear dressed 
simply in our night-gown and slippers ! The most 
formidable Don Juan would tremble and shiver 
under such circumstances.” 

“Vilified, scoffed at and dismissed ! it is too 
much,” said Max de Rheiss. 

“ You would have been better pleased had I 
killed him, I suppose ? Well, every one takes his 
revenge in his own way. I shall never kill any- 


A ZOVUB^S HZIVARZ. 


37 


body. While we were in Rome, last year, Madame 
de Montebard had an amour.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! a new one ! ” exclaimed Miguel. 

“ No, an old one in the order of dates ; but this 
one came after ^ou.” 

“ It is thus that the marchioness turns all our 
heads,” observed Charles ; “ you are the only one, 
sir, who commits no eiTor in this way.” 

“ You know,” answered the antiquarian with 
excellent command of temper, fixing his eyes on 
Mr. Rockwell, “ that my wife is too pretty to ever 
be short of lovers. I have here, in my pocket, 
d la Petrarch^ our friend’s last sonnet but one. 
Are you curious to hear it ? ” 

“ Yes, certainly ! ” eagerly cried the Bavarian 
noble. 

“It is of no consequence,” quickly replied 
Charles, his cheeks slightly coloring. 

“ As Mr. Rockwell thinks it would be wasting 
time,” continued the impassive marquis, “ we shall 
come back to the amour of Rome. 

“This time, it was a gentleman of Verona, a 
very fine man, indeed, and proportionately rich. 
He got up endless fetes to please Madame de 
Montebard. Our nights were one long concert. 
How many times have I not fallen asleep on the 


38 


A LOVJSH'S JRBJFABD. 


Andante of Bell lura innamorata ! But music, 
however fine, became monotonous, as it always 
does when there is too much of it ; and while the 
company was engaged, I put my hand upon a 
dozen epistles of the Veronese: my wife helped 
me wonderfully by feigning to have lost them near 
her apartment, and, two days afterwards, they 
were printed in a feuilleton of the Diario di 
Boma'^ 

Printed ! ” 

“ In full,” replied the antiquary. “ They proved 
an immense success. They were very sentimental, 
and written in the most elegant Italian style, and 
at the bottom of each letter were left his two 
initials ; the whole thing being so transparent, 
that the author could be easily recognized.” 

And what did the Veronese do about it ? ” asked 
Captain Antonio. 

“ He went to Syria, and I believe he was killed 
at Beyrout.” 

“ What a born de vil I ” muttered Charles, con- 
templating the diplomatist with admiration. 

“You seem to employ very adroit means of 
ridding yourself of the lovers of the marchioness,” 
said Miguel ; “ the one rises from the depths of de- 
spair to drink Falernian wine of the Pontius Pilate 


A LOVUH^S RIJJVABD. 


39 


in your company ; the other goes and gets killed 
because you undertook to make him a feuilletonist 
against his will. You are, doubtless, philosopher 
enough to permit me to ask this question : — Do 
you believe that this is sufficient to insure you 
against all future accidents ? ” 

“ I have an armor which renders me as invul- 
nerable as a husband can be on this sublunary 
sphere.” 

“ What is this armor’s name ? ” 

“ You all know it ! Madame de Montebard 
herself.” 

“ What do you mean?” exclaimed Fabien, who 
was perplexed by the phlegmatic temper of the 
good-natured old man. 

“ If her grace is a loadstone that attracts, her 
coquetry is a shield which guards.” 

“ God give me life,” said Charles, in an under- 
tone, “and I shall yet test the defects of this 
armor.” 

Just then, a postilion announced to the marquis 
that his carriage was ready. 

“Good-bye, gentlemen,” said the diplomatist, 
rising ; “ I start for Vienna where his Majesty the 
King of the Two-Sicilies sends me, and I leave my 
wife under your protection.” 


40 


A ZOVJ^ArS HZIVAIW. 


“ What could be more impertinent than this old 
antiquary ! ” exclaimed Miguel petulantly. “ He 
makes me feel anxious to fall in love with his 
wife.” 

“ Don’t burn yourself there,” said Charles to 
him quietly. 

“ And, you ? ” 

“ Oh ! as for me, I have already felt the flames.” 

Ten minutes later, the company separated and 
Fabien resumed the route to Naples. 

When he had gone two or three leagues from 
the city gate, a blockade of carts and carrioles 
stopped his post-chaise. . Upon the highway stood 
a carriage whose horses were pawing the ground 
and impatiently champing their bits. A lady, 
leaning out of the coach door, was chiding the 
groom. 

“ Why do you not go on? ” she said ; “ I shall 
never have time to dress.” 

“I cannot, madame,” answered the unhappy 
coachman. 

Suddenly the horses, frightened by some noise, 
dashed down the lower side of the road at a brisk 
gallop. The carriage, carried away, pitched over 
the small ditch alongside of the bank, ran through 


A BBJVABJ). 


41 


the field, struck a stump, and was turned upside 
down on the grass, in less time than it takes to 
describe it. 

Full of anxiety, Fabien sprang hastily out of 
his chaise ; but when he reached the scene of the 
disaster, he found the lady standing up close by the 
overturned vehicle, and laughing heartily at her 
mishap. 


42 


A LOV^E^S EEWAED, 


CHAPTER III. 

Fabien forms Madame de Montebard’s acquaintance. — The in- 
vitation. — A few words on Monsieur and Madame de Monte- 
bard. — The Marchioness’ character. — Fabien’ s first visit to the 
Marchioness. — The impromptu ball. — A game of cards by 
two officers. — The stakes. — Madame de Montebard leaves 
Naples for the Villa Orso. — Fabien and the two Neapolitans. 

Fabien, at first, stopped short in surprise ; but 
on seeing the turn affairs had taken, approached, 
and saluting the laughing lady, said : 

“ It is scarcely necessary to ask, madame, if you 
are injured ? ” 

“ Oh ! not in the least,” said the lady gayly 
shaking her head ; “ I was only thrown out upon 
the turf, which is as soft as down ; but as I got up, 
I could not help laughing at the ridiculous figure 
poor Peter cut.” 

Poor Peter, who was the coachman, and who 
had been thrown quite heavily from his seat, now 
looked at the caleche with such a pitiful expression 
of sorrow and humiliation, that the lady had much 
difficulty in restraining a fresh outburst of laughter. 


) 


A L0V:EJR’S REJVAIW. 


43 


“Well, my friend,” said she at last, “there is 
pobody either killed or wounded. You will medi- 
tate to-morrow on this adventure ; but at present, 
it is advisable to raise the carriage and start at 
once. I am expected at the ball, to-night, and if 
I do not return immediately to Naples, I will not 
have time to prepare my toilet.” 

“ Certainly, my lady,” said the groom, at the 
same time scratching his ear, “we can raise the 
carriage ; but there is something else the matter.” 

“ What is that ? ” 

“ The shaft is broken, my lady.” 

A glance assured madame that this was the 
truth. The shaft was broken in the middle. She 
stamped her little foot impatiently on the ground. 

“ What shall we do ? ” said she petulantly. 

“ Confound it ! I do not know,” replied Peter. 

Fabien understood that the moment to offer his 
services had come. 

“ The unlucky accident which has thrown you 
into this meadow, madame,” said he to her, “ must 
serve as an excuse for the boldness of my proposi- 
tion, and I hope you will not be offended if I 
dare to beg you to accept a seat in my carriage.” 

The lady bowed slightly, glanced first at her 
interlocutor, then at the handsome post-chaise 


44 


A LOVERS S BEWARE. 


waiting on the causeway, and lastly at the forlorn 
looking caleche lying on the grass. She had a 
great inclination to answer yes, but she hesitated, 
however. 

Fabien,. noticing her perplexity, repeated : 

“ Pardon me if I insist, madame ; but as I be- 
lieve I heard you mention that you would not have 
time to make your toilet for the ball, if you did 
not reach Naples soon, do not, then, I entreat you, 
deprive the company of the pleasure your presence 
must certainly afford it.” 

“ I suppose I must be compassionate, then, 
if you imagine my absence would make them un- 
happy.” 

The lady gave some commands to Peter, took 
the proffered arm of Fabien, and stepped lightly 
into the post-chaise, which started off at a gallop. 

“ This is to what a lady exposes herself, when 
she is an affectionate wife ; ” said she, noncha- 
lantly establishing herself in a corner of the 
carriage ; “if I had not taken a heroic sort of 
fancy to accompany my dear husband, this acci- 
dent would not have happened me.” 

“ I thank you for your heroism, then,” answered 
Fabien simply. 

The conversation thus begun, instantly took a 


A LOVIJB^S BAIVAIW. 


45 


lively and pleasant turn, by wliicli both were put 
in excellent humor. The lady showed that she 
possessed wit and originality of imagination, and 
the cavalier, by his best efforts, supported the good 
reputation of his countrymen. 

When the carriage entered Naples, it seemed to 
them that the journey had occupied only a few 
moments : it had, however, taken a full hour. 

“ Here we are in town,” said Fabien to the lady, 
“ but I do not know where I must drive you.” 

“ Ah ! that is true,” said she. “ Please instruct 
your coachman to drive to the hdtel of the Mar- 
chioness de Montebard, Toledo Street.” 

At the mention of this name, Fabien started 
and looked even more attentively at his fair com- 
panion than he had yet done. She appeared to 
him, what she indeed was, wonderfully beautiful. 
Her form was slight and graceful, and her head, 
which might be taken for a Greek model, was 
poised upon a swan-like throat. 

Fabien was still deeply absorbed in thought, 
when the post-chaise stopped in front of a mansion, 
the double doors of which sprang open at once. 

As the marchioness put her pretty foot on the 
steps to descend, she turned quickly. 

“Now I think of it,” said she, “I ought, at 


46 


A ZOVI^B'S BZJFABZ. 


least, sir, to know to whom I am indebted for this 
really important service.” 

“ M. de Varny,” answered Fabien, simply. 

“ M. de Varny,” repeated the marchioness, “ stop 
a moment ; it seems to me that this najne is not 
unknown to me. ... M. de Varny ; yes, that is 
the name.” 

And Madame de Montebard toyed with the 
tresses of her abundant hair, while consulting her 
memory. 

Ah ! now, I recollect,” she exclaimed, whilst 
Fabien was contemplating her, impatiently but 
silently ; “ are you not, sir, connected with the 
diplomatic body ? ” 

“ I am secretary to the French embassy in 
Naples, madame.” 

“ Yes, yes ! and your name is Fabien ? ” 

“ Fabien, at your service, madame.” 

“ Madame d’Astouans, your cousin and my 
friend, has written me very much about you in 
her last letters, and has informed me of your recent 
arrival in Naples. If you look carefully among 
your papers you will find somewhere a letter of 
introduction to me.” 

“ I hope so, madame ; ” said Fabien pulling out 
his pocket-book which he commenced searching 


A LOVJEIi’S liUJVARD. 


47 


eagerly, when he was stopped by Madame de 
Montebard. 

“It is not necessary to look for it,” said she, 
“ an acquaintance has been formed between us, 
and I would have you burn the letter, were I not 
afraid that it might contain, in a postscript, a re- 
quest for some of those coral trinkets to which 
Parisian ladies attach so much value, since the 
Neapolitans no longer wear them. Hereafter, 
please consider this house as yours, and come to 
see me as often as you can.” 

Madame de Montebard presented her hand to 
Fabien, which he kissed, and she vanished into the 
mansion. 

One word now regarding Monsieur and Madame 
de Montebard, whose names were introduced ever 
and anon into the conversations which beguile the 
leisure hours of the Neapolitans, who are one of 
the most gossiping and inquisitive people on the 
face of the earth. 

The Marquis de Montebard was the eldest son of 
an Smigre who, driven from France, during the 
Reign of Terror, sought an asylum at Naples, 
where he married a wealthy heiress of Capitanate, 
passionately fond of titles and heraldry. 


48 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


On the death of his parents, he inherited both 
nobility and fortune, so that gratitude as well as 
habit attached him to the soil where he was born ; 
he, therefore, made Naples his home and solicited 
an appointment from the government, which Avas 
at once granted him. His taste for antiquities was 
acquired by traveling, and his most intimate friends 
did not know whether he liked best to sign a pro- 
tocol or to classify a medal. 

It was in Paris that he met and married Ma- 
demoiselle de Miriolles ; for notwithstanding that 
he was past forty, he entered into matrimony cour- 
ageously, and with the philosophy of a man who had 
a passion in which he could take refuge in case of 
a misadventure, arising out of the doubtful event- 
ualities of a disproportionate marriage. 

As, aside of the numismatic art, he was a diplo- 
matist of intelligence and fine manners, conse- 
quently he could not be entirely displeasing to the 
lady, who had, herself, captivated him by those sen- 
sible traits of character not ordinarily counted by as- 
pirants : — a great vivacity, a variable temperament, 
much ardor in the pursuit of pleasure, an unalter- 
able gayety Avhich would cause her audience to 
pass from laughter to tears in an instant, and so 
capricious and fantastic an imagination, that she 


A LOVIJB^S HmVAIW. 


49 


managed to see things the reverse of what the}^ 
appeared to others. 

When she arrived in Naples, she allowed her- 
self to gayly float with the tide, though, to tell the 
truth, she helped a little, until she reached the 
highest step on the unsteady ladder which Fashion 
holds with uncertain hand. Yet she had the 
supreme art to maintain herself there. 

If the epithet of lionne had passed the Alps, 
Madame de Montebard would have been the first 
lionne of Naples ; she contented herself with being 
the most admired and sought-for woman in the city. 

She was born without fortune, and had been 
simply brought up in an austere and parsimonious 
family ; but she had within herself an innate love 
of luxury and a taste for splendor. 

From the very first visits the marquis paid to 
Mademoiselle de Miriolles, her parents used all 
the arts and influence in their power to induce 
her to regard him with favor ; telling her that a 
pretty woman is happy only so far as fortune 
allows her to satisfy her lightest whim and fancy, 
and that a rich husband should be sought for, 
because his wealth would permit her to set out in 
more relief, and make more attractive her own 
natural gifts. 


4 


50 


A LOVIJB^S BIJiVAIW. 


Thus it is that so many sacrilegious couplings^ 
so many immoral marriages are planned and con- 
summated in our day ; forty-nine out of every fifty 
of which — as in the present case and will he seen 
further on — lead to terrible and heart-rending con- 
sequences. 

The antiquary placed his income at his young 
wife’s disposal, and she used it with a charming 
prodigality, which immediately gave to her mansion 
a great renown in Naples. ^ 

It became, in a very short time, a gay and lively 
center of all that the city of Parthenope possessed 
of wealthy Mlers, of fashionable ladies, of foreign- 
ers of distinction, and of eminent artists. It was 
precisely what the marquis most desired ; for 
being himself of a taciturn character, he used the 
unalterable cheerfulness of his wife as an antidote. 
Never did he show himself more pleased, than when 
he saw her surrounded by people eager to please her. 

We will be told, perhaps, that the marquis was 
a singular husband, who took such pains to ap- 
proach the flame which so many others avoid ; but 
there are husbands of all kinds, and the marquis 
was one who believed that a multiplicity of 
acquaintances in the excitement of life, were con- 
jugal conductors. 


A LOVEIVS BE W ABU. 


51 


Here we are obliged to avow that Madame de 
Montebard was coquettish ; yet this adjective very 
poorly expresses our meaning. She was possessed 
of the most ardent desire to please everybody, 
and at any price. This desire Avas a requirement 
of her nature, Avhich she instinctively obeyed with- 
out calculating the costs. “ Please at first, — always 
pleased,” was her motto, and she was never so 
happy as ivhen she felt that the seductive power 
of her charms aiid wit exercised its empire over 
those Avho approached her. 

Carried away by a belief in her own superiority 
in everything, by the conviction of her beauty, 
Madame de Montebard could not understand why 
all did not instantly yield to her influence. Greedy 
of homage and adulation, although a woman of 
rare wit and intelligence, she drank them in as 
floAvers the deAv. She seemed to look upon them 
as her rightful tribute. 

It may be imagined that, Avith this character, 
Madame de Montebard exposed herself to be en- 
trapped in her turn by the first attractive fop that 
threAV himself' in her Avay, and thaf the assumed 
indifference of an aspirant cunning enough to play" 
the part of a Lovelace or of an impenetrable 
Byronian hero, Avould secure an easy triumph. 


52 


A LOVEB^S BEWABU. 


Such was not the fact, however. This rakish trick, 
which always succeeds with vulgar flirts, failed 
utterly with her, and whoever tried to practice it 
only brought himself into ridicule and was regarded 
by her as a simpleton. 

To one of her proud nature, protesting against 
her superiority appeared to her like denying the 
light of day, and was, consequently, so much the 
worse for those who could not see it. She would 
shrug her shoulders, and say of them, that they 
were void of intelligence and feeling. But she 
took no pains to retain a grudge against them 
further than by simply forgetting to notice them. 

With all this, Madame de Montebard was good- 
natured, frank and loyal, and devoted to her friends 
who might ask anything of her, except the sacri- 
fice of a ribbon. 

Such Avas the woman that Fabien went to see 
the day after his arrival in Naples. He was ushered 
into a splendid apartment, where marvels of art 
were distributed with charming taste. Vases, tab- 
lets, statues, mosaics, and glittering arms were 
spread from galleries to boudoirs with a profusion 
which in no way conflicted with elegance. One 
could see, at the first glance, that the hand of 
a woman endowed with the highest degree of 


A LOVEIVS EE WARD. 


53 


artistic taste had presided over the arrangement 
of these rich treasures collected by the marquis. 

Fabien found the letter of introduction Madame 
de Montebard had spoken to him about : — she read 
it rapidly whilst they were alone. 

“ Well, well,” said she, passing from paragraph 
to paragraph, “ Madame d’Astouans forgets that 
she has already written me on this subject, but on 
account of your relationship, such things must be 
overlooked. But first of all,” said she, crushing 
the paper between her pretty fingers, “tell me 
quickly some news of dear, delightful Paris, which 
I love so well ! ” 

Fabien did as he was requested, and they were 
soon deeply engaged in conversation. Madame 
de Montebard was just beginning to try the first 
resources of her coquetry, when some friends com- 
ing in, the conversation took a more general turn, 
and the marchioness ceased skirmishing with 
Fabien, to give battle to some hair-brained fop 
who next engaged her attention. 

It so happened that this very evening a large 
company met at Madame de Montebard’s house. 
The most fashionable ladies, followed by their hus- 
bands, dropped in on their way home from the 
theater of San Carlo, and as one visitor succeeded 


54 


A LOVEB'S BEWABIJ. 


another in quick succession, the marchioness, who 
was a woman of the world, and who well under- 
stood the art of entertaining company, improvised 
a hall which soon produced a sympathetic feeling 
of happiness. 

As there are few persons in Italy who are not 
nihsicians of greater or less ability, an orchestra 
was readily formed, and with half a dozen basses, 
violins and flutes, produced from a cabinet, under 
the lead of a piano, the whole company gayly 
began to dance. 

Fabien observed Mr. Rockwell in the midst of 
the throng, and the two young men at once ap- 
proached each other. 

“ Nothing is talked of but your exploits,” said 
Charles, after the usual salutations. 

“ Of my exploits ! of me ? ” asked Fabien quite 
astonished. 

“ Who but you, if you please, saved Madame 
de Montebard yesterday, and brought her back in 
triumph to Naples ? Who but you kissed her hand 
on the steps of her mansion, and to-day appeared 
first in her drawing-room ? ” 

“These were incidents at which I have good 
reason to rejoice, but, for heaven’s sake ! do not 
raise to the dignity of an exploit an adventure 


A LOVEWS REWAUI). 


55 


which ends with a promenade. As to my triumph, 
I am inclined to believe that it will be like Don 
Hermenegildo’s victory.” 

“ It has, nevertheless, furnished the conversation 
for half the town.” 

“ That part of it which has little to do.” 

“ I beg your pardon, — it employs itself in speak- 
ing of the other part.” 

“ I regret, then, that it cannot injure me ; it 
would be a proof that I have something to lose.” 

“ Is it true that you did not know Madame de 
Montebard before your arrival in Naples ? ” said 
Mr. Rockwell, trying to disguise his jealous anxiety 
beneath an air of indiference. 

“ I had not that honor, but unknown to my- 
self, I carried a letter of introduction to her.” 

“ Then, bless your stars for having brought 
you further in her good graces, than one year of 
assiduous attention could have done.” 

Compelled to speak of the marchioness, Charles 
dwelt complaisantly on his theme, and passing 
from one subject to another, sketched a portrait of 
her character similar to that we have already 
given. Inspired, perhaps, by a secret spite, he 
overdrew the picture. Fabien listened to him, 
with his head sometimes bowed, and sometimes 


56 


A LOVERS BEWARE. 


looking at the marchioness, who smiled at him. 
He had known her such a short time, and yet he 
already took a singular interest in all that con- 
cerned her ! Mr. Rockwell’s words troubled him, 
however. 

Perceiving this, Charles continued : 

“You see that it is but two days since you 
first met her, and she has already gained the in- 
fiuence over you she exercises on all who approach 
her.” 

“ That is, then, as much as to say that you feel 
it yourself, and deeper too, perhaps, than others ; ” 
replied Fabien, fixing a curious look upon his 
interlocutor. 

“ Perhaps so,” said Charles. 

“ Then you love her ? ” 

Mr. Rockwell paused for a moment, during 
which he appeared to reflect more seriously than 
was usual with him ; then raising his head and 
looking at Fabien with a knowing smile, replied : 

“ I will answer you truly, for you seem to have 
French wit enough to understand this sort of thing. 
No, I do not love her, but I am smitten.” 

“ Then, you are in the best condition to succeed,” 
said Fabien with a throbbing heart. 

“ Scarcely ; not with her, at least, because it is 


A LOVJBH^S HJEIVAIW. 


57 


one of the strangest mysteries of her inexplicable 
nature that to aspire to her heart we must love her 
first.” 

A blush here passed over the face of Fabien, and 
he threw a glance tender, and deep, towards the 
fair queen of the ball. 

“ But it seems to me,” said he, “ that this would 
he easy enough, for she is a woman sufficiently 
attractive to win all hearts.” 

“ Ah ! you think so ? ” replied Charles ; “ it is 
not such an easy thing to love whom you will.” 

Max de Rheiss, who had just lost one hundred 
ducats by play, came to borrow Charles’s purse, and 
walked away with him. 

Left alone, Fabien allowed his thoughts to float 
around Madame de Montebard, like those giddy 
moths which hover about a flame ; the marchioness 
occasionally encountered his glances, as she passed 
from group to group, and his serious and preoccu- 
pied expression delighted her. 

He was just entering the gallery where the card- 
tables were arranged, when Antonio and Miguel 
passing by, saluted him. 

The first time Fabien saw them, they appeared 
unfriendly toward him, for what reason, he could 
not understand. On the present occasion they 


58 


A LOVEIVS UEWAllD. 


seemed preoccupied with bitter thoughts, and 
passed quickly on, conversing in a low tone. 

Fabien stopped Charles, who was returning from 
the gaming-room with a lightened purse. 

“ Look at those gloomy faces,” he said, indicat- 
ing Antonio and Miguel to his friend. 

“ They are plotting some nefarious scheme,” 
answered Charles. 

Fabien interrogated him with his eyes. 

“ Oh ! ” continued Charles, accompanying his 
words with a scornful gesture, “ they wear the 
hearts of villains under the uniform of soldiers.” 

“ You judge them severely.” 

“ I judge them according to their own estimation. 
Not that they are not brave, and I believe, if the 
opportunity offered, they would act boldly ; who 
will not fight nowadays ? But at the bottom, their 
hearts are cowardly. Do you knowi, my dear M. 
de Varny, there is not a single drop of Italian 
blood in those veins. It is a bastard mixture of 
English and Prussian, which ferments under the 
Neapolitan sun. Do not depend upon such natures ; 
they are soft and pliable as velvet, and yet, to 
make use of an expression of the poet, as treach- 
erous as the waves.” 

“ But, my dear Mr. Rockwell, by your manner 


t LOVER'S EEiVAED. 


59 


toward them yesterday, I fancied you were their 
friend?” 

“ Pshaw ! ” returned the American, philosophi- 
cally shrugging his shoulders, “ these people amuse 
me ; that is all I care for. Besides, honest people 
are not usually so morose.” 

M. de Varny was struck by what Charles Rock- 
well had said, and, obeying an involuntary impulse, 
he walked to where the Italians were standing 
motionless, with their hands resting on the backs 
of their chairs, silently regarding each other. 
They were deadly pale, and the white gleam of an 
alabaster lamp, falling upon their foreheads, seemed 
to reflect the shadow of some fatal thought. 

“ Well, then ! let us play for her ! ” 

“ So be it ! ” answered Miguel, as he tore the 
envelope from a pack of cards. 

Fabien started up ; his heart telling him that 
some invisible danger was hanging over Madame 
de Montebard. 

He approached the two players. Antonio lifted 
his head, and a wintry smile played about his lips, 
as he set himself to shuffle the cards. 

Fabien threw some gold on the table. 

Which of you, gentlemen, will agree to cover 
this stake ? ” said he carelessly. 


60 


A ZOVUirs BZWABZ. 


Miguel picked up the pieces of gold lying scat- 
tered on the green cloth, and politely handed them 
back to him. 

I beg your pardon,” said he to Fabien, *‘but 
what we play for cannot be paid.” 

The game began. The contest was very brief. 
In two games Antonio acknowledged himself de- 
feated. 

“ I have lost,” said he, gathering up the cards, 
whilst a feeling of triumph swelled the breast of 
his opponent. “ But my word is given,” continued 
Antonio ; ‘‘ I am at your disposal whenever you 
wish, Miguel.” 

“ I shall rely on that,” replied the lieutenant, 
and both shook hands. 

When they reappeared in the ball-room, only a 
small group remained on the balcony, which was 
ornamented with boxes of blooming orange trees. 

“ What ! you intend to leave us, madame ? ” said 
a little theologian. 

“For a few days only,” answered Madame de 
Montebard ; “ but do not despair, I am going to the 
villa Orso, and you know that is only ten or twelve 
\ . miles from Naples.” 

“ But it is a desert ! ” replied the theologian.* 

“ The retreat is planted with laurels, lemon trees, 


A LOVUB^S HmVABD. 


61 


and jasmines,” said she, “ and we sometimes invite 
poor anchorites like yourself to come and do pen- 
ance there.” 

“ Then tlfey must certainly find it a paradise, 
since you are there,” returned the theologian, 

“ Do you start this morning, madame ? ” asked 
a French artist. 

“ I believe not,” replied the marchioness ; “ I 
will sleep too late. To do so, I would be obliged 
to brave the caresses of the sun, and I confess that 
they are too ardent at noon. I shall, no doubt, 
start late in the afternoon.” 

The two players exchanged a glance w'hich 
Fabien detected at once. 

“ Let us form a guard of honor for you,” said 
the artist, smiling and bowing. 

“ Willingly,” replied the marchioness ; “the ride 
will give you an opportunity of seeing Phoebus 
sinking into the gulf of Parthenope, which still, 
as in the days of mythology, continues to beautify 
the bay with the lurid glow of its departing rays. 
I shall be pleased to accept the painting which, I 
am sure, will be inspired by the scene.” 

On the following day, two hours before sunset, 
a eaUche, flanked by five or six cavaliers on horse- 
back, set out on the road to Sorrento. 


62 


A ZOVIJE^S EEIFARZ. 


Madame de Montebard sat with coquettish grace 
in the carriage ; the cavaliers were Antonio and 
Miguel, Fabien and Charles, the French artist, 
whom they called Horace Didier, and Max de 
Rheiss. 

They only remained at the villa Orso long 
enough to lunch, and again took the road to 
Naples. But as they were going through a small 
clump of pines, Fabien observed a man emerge 
from among the trees, and, in passing, rapidly ex- 
changed a look and a few words with Miguel, 
who kept a short distance behind the party. The 
suspicions which Fabien had conceived the night 
before, returned anew and with redoubled force. 

As they were about to separate on entering the 
town, Charles asked the cavaliers if they would 
not like to pass the rest of the night at his resi- 
dence. 

“We sincerely regret not being able to accept,” 
said Miguel, “ but the captain and I are on duty 
to-night, and we must immediately push on to- 
wards the barracks. Good-bye, gentlemen.” 

And, turning their horses’ heads, the two Nea- 
politans disappeared down a lane. 


A LOVERS S BEWAlilX 


63 


CHAPTER IV. 

Fabien’s anxieties. — A night expedition on the Bay of Naples. 
— The plot. — The two cavaliers. — Peppe, the goatherd. — 
The encounter and the colloquy which followed. — Lead 
against steel. — The provocation. — The arrival of the two 
cavaliers. — The pretext and the cause. — The duel. 

A SENSE of impending danger took possession of 
Fabien. He abruptly left Charles and his friends 
and dashed in pursuit of the Italian officers ; but 
in the labyrinth of streets in which they had dis- 
appeared, he lost track of them. 

For a moment he held the idea of taking to the 
plain and galloping to Orso Castle, but his 
horse was not strong, and it was almost completely 
exhausted by the long journey it had already 
traveled. 

As he rode slowly along, a thought struck him. 
He went straight to his residence, and there chang- 
ing his clothing, put on a large hat, threw a rude 
cloak around him, and filling his purse with gold, 
ran in haste to the Chiaja. He jumped into a 


64 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


boat, aroused the fisherman and urged him to ply 
his oars more vigorously, by slipping a few ducats 
into his hand. 

Fabien had remarked that the road which leads 
from Naples to the villa Orso described a large 
curve in following the sinuosities of the shore ; he 
thus hoped by taking the line of the arc, to arrive 
at the villa before Antonio and Miguel, supposing 
they intended to . go there, as his presentiments 
led him to believe. 

A fresh breeze ruffled the surface of the phos- 
phorescent waters ; the waves running from the 
horizon to spread their luminous ridges upon the 
silvery sands ; and by tlie regular rising and fall- 
ing of the ripples upon the bosom of the sea, one 
might easily imagine that the nymph Parthenope 
was still concealed in that gulf, which has been 
baptized by her sweet name. The stars shone in 
the deep blue sky like golden nail-heads, and 
were refiected back from the depths upon which 
Phoebus had cast a radiant mantle of light. 

The bark skimmed over the waters as swiftly as 
a halcyon, leaving a long glistening wake behind, 
and, as it flew on its way, the fisherman at the 
stern sang, sotto voce^ stray verses from Tasso. 

Fabien cast a gloomy glance around him, and. 


A lov:e:b’s bbjvabb. 


65 


lost in his reveries, asked himself where he was 
going, what he purposed to do, and if he was not 
the idle plaything of a dream. He remembered 
the Boulevard des It aliens^ and was ordering the 
fisherman to put about, when he heard, in the open 
space above, the clattering noise of a horse gallop- 
ing furiously, and lifting up his eyes, beheld, cross- 
ing a promontor}^, two figures on horseback, riding 
at full speed, their shadows being reflected against 
the transparent depths of the blue sky. 

It was like the sight of some doleful apparition ; 
and the two cavaliers were already enveloped in 
darkness, ere the resounding gallop of their steeds 
upon the flinty stones of the road had died 
away. 

An instant later, the keel of the bark grated 
upon the sand, and Fabien leaped upon the strand. 
With a few bounds he reached the edge of the gar- 
den, sloping from the villa Orso to the beach. 
Here he discovered a man standing at the angle of 
a small pathway leading to the upper terrace of 
the villa. At the first glance, Fabien saw that 
the man in his path was the same person who, a 
few hours before, had signaled and spoken to 
Miguel. 

Fabien crept along in Indian fashion, keeping 


66 


A LOVEIVS HE WARD. 


closely in the shadow of the shrubbery, until he 
came to a woody clump between the man and 
the villa, where he concealed himself in its • 
recesses. 

The thought that a mysterious danger hung 
over her whom he passionately adored, suddenly 
developed in him these powerful faculties of the 
red men celebrated by Cooper : — craft, patience, 
coolness and resolution. With eyes ardently fixed 
upon the dumb sentry who kept awake during the 
night, he waited. 

The man, who was clad in skins like a goatherd, 
stood silent and motionless, his head turned in the 
direction of the pathway running towards the 
highway. Presentl}^ a light sound of steps upon 
the gravel walk broke the silence which before had 
only been interrupted by the moaning of the sea. 
Two men, wrapped in cloaks, appeared on the 
pathway. Fabien instantly recognized them as 
Antonio and Miguel. 

In a few moments they reached the goatherd. 

“ Is it thou, Peppe ? ” asked Miguel. 

“ It is I, my masters,” answered the man, remov- 
ing from his forehead a tattered hat, from which 
was suspended picturesquely a piece of red ribbon. 

“ Well? ” queried the other. 


A LOVERS HEW Alii). 


67 


“ I played d la mora with Giacomo, the gardener ; 
he lost and drank so much of the wine of Sicily, in 
order to comfort himself, that he now sleeps on the 
straw as quietly* as a saint in his shrine. This 
explains how I have the key.” 

“ And Pablo, the guard ? ” 

“ I told him so plausible a story about a gang 
of marauders who plunder the inclosures, that he 
is gone Avith his gun and dog to guard the figs, 
which nobody cares about.” 

“ By Saint January ! thou art a very clever and 
droll fellow,” said Miguel. “ Give me the key, 
quick ! ” , 

“ Who gives, receives,” replied the goatherd 
grimly, without moving. 

“ Here is my purse.” 

The goatherd took it, and, balancing it in his 
hand, appeared to think it sufficiently heavy, for 
he put it in the breast of his goatskin coat. 

“ Here is the key,” said he. 

“Art thou quite sure that it is the key of the 
green door ? ” asked Miguel, on examining it. 

“ Try it,” said Peppe, “ and you will see that it 
plays in the lock as a child in the arms of its 
mother.”" 

“ FolloAv us, then,” 


A LOVERS S BEWARE. 


d8 

And ail three directed their steps towards the 
terrace. 

Motionless and scarcely breathing, Fabien had 
not lost a word of the conversation. When the 
three marched off, he ran towards the villa in a 
straight line, jumping over hedges, crossing walls 
built to exclude trespassers, and climbing over 
espaliers. A few of the flint stones, dislodged by 
his feet, rolled down upon the road. 

Somebody is there,” said Antonio, stopping. 

“ It is only a goat browsing,” replied Miguel. 

“ No,” said Peppe, “ it is a man ; a smuggler, 
undoubtedly.” 

“ Go forward, then ! ” 

Fabien, panting, arrived first at the green door 
which opened into a garden forming a terrace all 
around the villa. This door happened to be the 
one used by the servants of the house ; and was 
always closed by them at night. A high grating 
had been built outside this door and was fastened 
above it. On the top of the walls were pieces of 
broken glass, with their sharp points projecting 
outwards from the mortar, to defend the place 
against all attempts at escalade. When the grating 
was closed, and the doors locked, the villa Orso 
was like a fortress. 


A LOVUirS JiEJFAED. 


69 


Fabien hid himself in an angle of the projecting 
wall. The two Neapolitans and the goatherd 
arrived shortly afterwards. 

“ Here is the door,” said Miguel ; ‘‘ when I get 
into the garden, I will only have to climb to the 
gallery which winds around the porticoes, throw 
up a blind, and between the alcove of the signora 
and myself, there only remains a silken curtain.” 

Fabien’s heart throbbed wildly in his breast. 

“We will see now,” said Miguel, “ whether the 
coquetry of the lady will avail her on this occasion. 
But first, however, we must understand each other. 
Peppe will go to watch the door, and a whistle 
will tell us if the guard returns. And you, captain, 
will follow me. You remember our bargain, do 
you not ? ” 

“ I remember it well,” replied Antonio. 

“ You will stay under the portico ; a servant 
may take a fancy to enjoy the fresh air, and we 
must prevent him both from hearing and seeing. 
Should the lady take it into her head to sound an 
alarm, you must come at my call, and after 
gagging her, carry her down, put her on my horse 
and gallop with her to your residence.” 

“ And, to-morrow ? ” 

“ To-morrow ? — To-morrow will take care of 


70 


A LOVERS S REWA A D. 


itself ! But I suppose slie will have too much 
sense to tiy to make a tragedy out of this comedy.*’ 

“ Perhaps.” 

“ Pshaw ! she will cry out, will pray, and will 
faint.” 

Having determined upon their odious plan on 
the patliAvay, Antonio, Miguel, and Peppe turned 
to approach the green door, Avhen they perceived a 
man walking under the terrace. 

“ Here is some one ! ” said Miguel. 

“ It is some clown,” said Antonio, deceived by 
Fabien’s costume. 

“ Get away from here ! ” said Miguel gruffly, 
moving towards him. 

Fabien turned slowly, and stared at him. 

“ There is room here for every one,” said he, in 
a disguised voice. “ It pleases me to remain here, 
and here I shall stay.” 

“ He is a smuggler on the look-out for a few 
ducats,” remarked Peppe, “ give him half-a-dozen, 
and he will go.” 

“Very well,” said Miguel, draAving some gold 
pieces out of his j)ocket, “ take this and go ! ” 

Fabien took the money, and, Avithout mak- 
ing any reply, scattered it disdainfully in the 
dust. / 


A LOVER'S RE WARD. 


71 


At this unexpected action Miguel started back. 
Peppe shook his head at this, to him, exhibition of 
boundless folly. 

“ This is not what we looked for,” whispered 
the latter. 

Antonio and Miguel looked at each other, and 
then consulted together for a moment in a low 
voice. At last Miguel, taking a decided stand, 
turned towards the unknown, and saluting him, 
said : 

“ If we have made a mistake, sir, please excuse 
us ; an affair of gallantry brought us here, and if 
nothing of importance detains you, we will be 
obliged if you will leave us at liberty.” 

‘‘ It is because you are here^ Mr. Miguel Rasconti, 
that I am here also,” answered Fabien in a loud 
voice. 

Hearing himself called by name, tlie lieutenant 
of the Queen’s Dragoons started as if he had been 
shot. 

He took a step forward and his hand stole 
stealthily beneath his cloak, and replied, as he 
closely scanned the intruder : 

“ If you know my name so well, we should at 
least be on equal footing ; will you inform me of 
yours, sir? ” 


72 


A ZOVI^B^S liZlVABZ. 


“ Fabien de Varny,” replied the Frenchman, 
throwing back his large slouched hat. 

“ Ah ! the secretary of the French embassy ! ” 
remarked Antonio. 

“ Yes,” said Miguel, with a bitter smile ; “ the 
man of the post-chaise.” 

Fabien remembered his conversation with 
Charles. 

“ As you please, gentlemen,” retorted he. 
“ But, as I have already informed you, I am here, 
and here I shall remain.” 

Miguel threw open his cloak ; a dagger gleamed 
in his hand. 

“ I anticipated this,” said Fabien; and spring- 
ing back, he drew a revolver in each hand and 
leveled them at the heads of the Neapolitans. 

Antonio had imitated Miguel’s action, but, at 
the sight of the revolvers, Avhose gaping muzzles 
viciously menaced them, they dropped their 
arms. 

“ Throw down your weapons, gentlemen ! ” said 
Fabien ; “ you see that the game is at least even : 
lead against steel, and I can hit from a longer dis- 
tance.” 

The two Neapolitans slowly dropped their 
stilettos. 



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A LOVEIVS HEW ABB. 


73 


“ My friend Peppe will now do me the favor of 
throwing away his stick,” added Fabien. 

Peppe, who was not of a very belligerent nat- 
ure, hastened to obey the. Frenchman’s injunc- 
tion. 

“We will talk now, gentlemen,” remarked M. 
de Yarny, with a firm voice, hut as calmly as if he 
was discussing the latest fashions in a pretty 
woman’s boudoir. 

“ Be it so ! ” said Miguel, biting his nails with 
rage ; “ we can talk first, but we will meet again 
later.” 

“ I agree to that,” replied Fabien. “ I over- 
heard you, gentlemen, while you were concerting 
your nefarious plot.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Miguel, turning pale, “you are a 
spy, then ! ” 

Fabien smiled disdainfully. 

“You were planning a villainous enterprise 
enough, gentlemen,” said he, “ two King’s officers 
against one woman ! ” 

Miguel made one step forward, but the muzzle 
of a revolver prevented him from taking another. 

“ We agreed to talk, gentlemen,” added Fabien; 
“ if I fire, I may kill you, and if I wound you, 
you will only make j^ourselves liable to criminal 


74 


A LOVERS REWARD. 


prosecution. Do not move, then, but do as I com- 
mand you.” 

Antonio and Miguel bowed their heads, their 
eyes flashed bitter, helpless hatred, and their lips 
were white with rage. 

“ Return to Naples instantly,” continued Fa- 
bien ; “ your horses are not far off ; when I have 
seen you on them, I will come back here.” 

“ Or go further and higher, perhaps,” insinuated 
Miguel under his breath. 

Fabien glanced at him from head to foot with 
an expression of supreme contempt. 

“ I shall return to that door, and woe betide you 
if you come here again, for, by the Lord ! I will 
not spare you next time. You hear me, gentle- 
men ? ” 

“ Will you leave that door to-morrow, M. de 
Varny ? ” asked Miguel sneeringly. 

“ To-morrow, if you are not too cowardly, 
gentlemen, we will finish as men of courage an en- 
counter that you commenced as bravoes.” 

Ten minutes after, Antonio and Miguel were 
galloping along the road to Naples. 

The next day, as he had expected, Fabien re- 
ceived a visit from the two Neapolitans, both of 
whom, as he had been informed by Charles Rock- 


A LOVEirS RElVAliD. 


75 


well, showed a disposition to act as gentlemen 
after they had conducted themselves as vill ains. 

“ This is a serious affair, gentlemen,” said the 
secretary to them. ‘‘ I suppose that you under- 
stand the amount of discretion necessary in a case 
like this. No one must have the slightest sus- 
picion of the true reason of the duel, if bj" any 
accident a rumor of our engagement should be 
noised abroad. You are aware, besides, that we 
must travel some distance before we can meet, in 
order to avoid the little annoyance of a criminal 
trial.” 

“ It seems to me,” said Miguel, “ that 3*011 
should have thought of all these precautions the 
other evening.” 

“ The other night, I had no idea I was dealing 
with officers ; but on seeing your uniform, to-day, 
I remember who you are.” 

At this cool insult the two Italians turned pale. 

“ A truce to this,” said Miguel, “ let it be as 
you say.” 

“ If you think it best, we will visit the Secret 
Museum ; picking up Mr. Rockwell and M. de 
Rheiss on the way. You can then join us with 
one of your friends, — Signor Orlando Zacari, for 
example. In the hall, a discussion about some 


76 A LOVJSB’S BBJFABD. 

i 

scandal may be commenced ; you can answer me 
gruffly ; I will find in this a pretext for quarrel- 
ing with you, and after that words may pass freely 
between us, and we will challenge each other 
boldly. A fisherman’s skiff will convey us at 
night on the Papal Territoiy, and our swords will 
do the rest.” 

Everything occurred precisely as Fabien would 
have had it ; but there was in the words of An- 
tonio de Ponte-Vecchio and Miguel Kasconti, a 
bitterness so haughtily expressed, and so much 
vainly dissimulated hatred, that Charles was not 
deceived by the stratagem. 

“ I see the pretext, but where is the cause ? ” 
said he to Fabien, as the skiff sped over the 
waters. 

Fabien felt embarrassed, as he replied : “ Did 
you not think they were very impertinent and in- 
sulting in the language they used towards me this 
evening ? ” 

“ Too much so ; and that is why I believe the 
cause may be found at the villa Orso.” 

When they had passed the extreme frontier of 
the kingdom of Naples, they landed in a solitary 
cove, where a Roman officer was asleep in the 
moonlight. 


A LOVERS REWARD. 


77 


The custom-officer opened his eyes ; Charles 
closed them with a handful of haiocei. 

I give you my word that he will not waken 
again,” said he ; “ you can now slaughter your- 
selves with neatness and despatch.” 

The rivals took off their coats ; Miguel first 
engaging himself against Fabien. 

The lieutenant of the Queen’s Diugoons liad the 
reputation, in his regiment, of being an excellent 
swordsman ; Fabien did not understand much 
about fencing, but he had a brave heart, a cool 
head, and a strong arm, which went far towards 
equalizing the chances of the duel. 

Whilst they were fencing desperately, Charles 
Rockwell took the captain of the guard aside, and 
said to him, in a cheerful tone of voice : 

‘‘ I guess pretty well what brought you to the 
Pope’s dominions. If you allow me to take the 
part of one of the compatriots of my best friend, 
whom marriage has made Italian, I will ask you 
to cross swords with me.” 

Antonio hesitated. 

“ I make this request so that this business may 
be more promptly concluded,” added Charles, 
“ and that we may be certain of arriving in good 
tinae to see the new opera at San Carlo’s, to-night.” 


78 


A LOVERS EE W AMD. 


This last reason proved a decisive one with 
the captain, and the two immediately engaged in 
combat. 

Max de Rheiss and Orlando Zacari looked in- 
terestedly on. The guardian of the coast was 
meanwhile calculating how many ducats he could 
have in his baiocci. 

The affray was soon over; the, two Neapolitans 
being too much enraged to see where their blows 
fell, they paid for their hatred and impatience 
with wounds. 

The little party gathered again at the shore, and 
hastily taking their places, the skiff sped swiftly 
over the waters, on the return to Naples. 




79 


CHAPTER Y. 

Charles Kockwell’s portrait. — At San Carlo. — Intimate con- 
versation between Fabien and Madame de Montebard.— A 
dangerous word. — Madame d’Astouan’s letter to her 
cousin Fabien. — What was said concerning the Marchio- 
ness, during the evening party which took j)lace at the 
palace of the Prince de Cassaro. — “ Have you any ene- 
mies?” — A decoy note. — Fabien’s escape from death. — 
The bandit Gaspard. — Fabien at the house of the Marchio- 
ness. — The avowal. — An original lover. — “Show me my 
equal, and I will love.” — N'othing and Everything. 

As tliere had been no breach of peace, the police 
closed their eyes to the wounds of the two officers, 
who, at any rate,* were not seriously injured ; but 
all the town was set in commotion by the incident, 
and the adventure of Don Hermenegildo was for- 
gotten. 

But while the tongues of the gossips were busy 
with the affair, Fabien met Madame de Montebard 
very frequently ; and to describe the nature of her 
influence over him as briefly as possible, we need 
only to say that he did not regret the Boulevard 
des Italiens. 

Next to her, the person he most associated with 


80 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


was Charles Rockwell. He had become sincerely 
attached to the young American, although per- 
fectly aware of Rockwell’s intentions ; but such 
contrasting sentiments are to be found in the 
human heart, that it is impossible to always either 
understand or explain them, and were it con- 
demned to hold only those feelings capable of 
expfanation, it would be very limited indeed in its 
affections. 

Charles was possessed of a form of manly beauty, 
strong, active and graceful, and his head uncon- 
sciously recalled the Endymion of Gerard. 

To this beauty, which will ever be considered a 
divine gift, no matter what those not so endowed 
by nature may say to the contrary, the American 
tourist added many other rare advantages. He 
was brilliant, witty, good tempered and generous 
to a fault, and of such a daring disposition, as to 
believe that there was nothing impossible to him. 

The worst that could be attributed to his char- 
acter, was a spirit of raillery, which caused him to 
turn everything and everybody into ridicule. He 
denied to himself the truth of sentiments that he 
had apparently accepted as genuine from others, 
and was not always certain of the motives that 
determined his own most serious actions. Blit he 


A LOVI^B^S BBWABJ). 


81 


maintained his theories with such originality and 
good-humor, that it was impossible for any one to 
be angry with him, and many were of the opinion 
that he affected to be more of a skeptic than he 
was in reality. 

Fabien, on the contrary, possessed a believing 
nature and a disposition inclined to melancholy ; 
but the young men harmonized wonderfully, per- 
haps all the better on account of the contrast 
between them. 

They soon became intimate friends, and Charles, 
who knew Naples as well as if he had resided in it 
for twenty years, explained its mysteries with such 
cheerfulness to Fabien, that the latter never tired 
of listening to him. 

Rockwell’s conversation was as lively, brilliant, 
and clever as a clironique in any of the Parisian 
boulevard journals ; and, thanks to it, he was wel- 
comed in every drawing-room. 

But if Charles spoke much, Fabien spoke little. 
Madame de Montebard was surprised to find so 
little animation in his conversation with her, for 
she was accustomed to the highest flights of hyper- 
bole found in the language of love’s vocabulary. 
As he had already given proof of intelligence, she 

could not account for his reserve by thinking that 
G 


82 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


he was unable to converse brilliantly, and she felt 
strangely annoyed at the little use he made of the 
language of passion. 

Whenever he met her, he paid her the most 
tender and considerate attention ; but she wanted 
more than that. 

One night, in her box at San Carlo’s, the con- 
versation turned on the qualities that a lover could 
and would most desire in his mistress. We leave 
the reader to imagine what metaphors and fine 
illustrations embellished the discourses of those 
present, on this delicate subject. Their pictures 
were mirrors, in which Madame de Montebard saw 
her own image reflected. Fabien alone, who de- 
spised this kind of flattery, remained silent. 

When the company broke up, Madame de Monte- 
bard turned to him, filled with indignation : 

“ Is it because you think me neither graceful 
nor pretty,” said she, “ that you kept so discreetly 
silent in this discussion ? ” 

Quite the contrary, I assure you,” exclaimed 
F abien, astonished at this brisk attack. 

“ That is, at least, one trifling assurance to the 
contrary of what I understood, but you say it in a 
tone which proves to me that you do not yourself 
believe it/’ 


A LO Villi' S BIJTVABU. 


83 


“But, maclame, why do you accuse me of having 
such execrable taste ? ” 

“ Everything : your silence, your seeming dis- 
dain, the care you take never to use a loving phrase, 
a dender word in your conversation with me. 
Have you ever noticed if I have fine eyes and a 
well-formed waist ? Can you tell if I sing with 
expression — if I dance gracefully ? W ere you 
asked if I were possessed of intelligence, I really 
think you would be at a loss for a reply, because, 
through politeness, you would not care to give your 
own opinion on the matter. I must believe, how- 
ever, that it is not flattering, since you never take 
the trouble to express it.” 

Fabien was dumfounded, as Madame de Monte- 
bard sat there talking with such vivacity ; while 
her adorable pouting lips and pretty arched brows 
would have afforded a study for an artist. 

“ You see, I am right, you are unable to answer 
me,” continued she, as Fabien looked at her in 
wonderment ; but she was smiling now, for she had 
begun to understand the reason of his silence. 

“ Will you believe me, madame, if I tell you that 
my silence was caused by the fear that I might 
express too candidly the sentiments your presence 
excited in me ? ” 


84 


A LOVER'S EE WARD. 


“ Certainly not ; it is undoubtedly an ingenious 
way of getting out of a difficulty but it is a worn- 
out one, and I assure you it will need much beside 
this to convince me of its truth.” 

“ It is nevertheless the truth, madame, but it- is 
truth’s misfortune not to be believed.” 
i “ Can you not speak to me without growing so 
excited over the matter? ” 

“ No, madame ; there are certain things upon 
which we cannot converse calmly ; and I feel that 
were I to abandon myself to the charms you exer- 
cise over all who approach you and which are 
exhaled from you like a perfume, I would express 
a very different sentiment to that of admiration. 
It is perhaps because I feel so much, that I say so 
little.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed the marchioness, “ you 
would try to make me believe you have kept silent 
because you felt inclined to love me ? ” 

“ No, madame,” answered Fabien gravely. 
“Indeed!” ejaculated the marchioness, turning 
her eyes upon him in great astonishment. 

“You use a word which expresses a serious 
thing, and we would speak too lightly of it, Avere 
we to employ it in this idle prattle which the first 
duetto will efface from your mind. Besides, this 


A LOVAUfti liAlVAJlD. 


bb 

love that I feel is of so peculiar a nature, that it is 
impossible that you could ever reciprocate it.” 

“It must be, then, a love after your own like-- 
ness,” said she ; “ something highly original.” 

“ It has, at least, the merit of not being very 
common ; but, indeed, I do not know how to ex- 
plain it to you.” 

“ Is it, then, so very singular ? ” 

“'No, but it is very embarrassing.” 

“ Here comes the prima-donna to sing her 
cavatina ; I will lend her one ear and risk the other 
to you, so that I shall only partly hear your dan- 
gerous confidences.” 

“ Be it so, but I must go afterwards.” 

“ Take advantage of this trill and speak.” 

“ Well, then, madame, my love does not live on 
hope, but is fed with remembrance.” 

Fabien quickly moved to the door, as Madame 
de Montebard timidly turned her head towards 
him, and seemed to further interrogate him with 
her looks, but the prima-donna had ceased to sing. 
Glancing towards Madame de Montebard, as he 
passed the threshold of the box, lie noticed the 
shoulders and neck of the marchioness suffused 
with a rosy tinge, and her eyes fell, as he encoun- 
tered them in waving her a polite adieu. 


86 


A liBIFAIW. 


Soon after liis arrival at Naples, M. de Varny 
found liis thoughts and feelings so irresistibly 
blended with the existence of Madame de Monte- 
bard, that the recollection of the past appeared to 
him like some confused dream. 

It seemed to him that he had only begun to live 
in earnest, from the day he had dined at the osteria 
of the Arms of England. 

His letters conveyed the tone of his mind, and 
M. de Salville began to congratulate himself on the 
conversion of his nephew, whom, he imagined, 
would become a second Talleyrand. 

But Madame d’Astouans, who was also in cor- 
respondence with Fabien, saw more clearly how 
affairs stood, and did not allow herself to be 
deceived by this newly-born enthusiasm for di- 
- plomacy. 

“ Your first letter^ dear cousin,” wrote Madame to 
him, one day, “ contained the name of Madame de 
Montehard twice ; I smiled, Your second letter 
mentioned it four times ; 1 then suspected. But 
your third epistle presented it SIX TIMES to my 
eyes ; I have now no doubt whatever.” 

One night, at an assembly at the palace of the 
Prince of Cassaro, who was then prime-minister, 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


87 


Fabien, Charles, and their Neapolitan acquaint- 
ances met in the galleries where the aristocracy of 
Naples were promenading. 

Fabien, supporting himself against the railing, 
was looking into the adjoining drawing-room. 

‘‘ I believe there is something in this contempla- 
tion,” said Charles, offering his hand ; “ is there not 
a magnetic current which commences with white 
shoulders, -yonder, and finishes with a lover, 
here ? ” 

M. de Varny, taken unaware, reddened. 

“ Oh I do not answer,” remarked Mr. Rockwell, 
smiling, “ you would not tell me the truth.” 

“ If I wanted a confidant, do you think I would 
address myself to you ? ” said Fabien, striving to 
dissimulate his annoyance. 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Don’t you remember your own confession to 
me?” 

“ Perfectly. But what of that ! My rivalry is 
not of a vindictive nature. Am I fool enough to 
fancy that your dear countrywoman does not 
appear beautiful to others as well as to myself ? 
Love her, if it pleases you, and try to gain her 
love, and 1 shall applaud the conqueror.” 

“ So little jealous ! ” 


88 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


‘‘ I have no taste for the consequences of such 
folly ! And shall I not tell you that ? I am some- 
thing like Larochefoucauld, that wise man who 
loved like a fool ! I think we may meet a woman 
who has never had a lover ; hut I maiii’tain there 
are none who have had only one.’" 

“ Stop ! ” said Fabien peremptorily, “ I am hor- 
rified by your rigid philosophy.” 

Mr. Rockwell stared at him in astonishment. 

“ What suffering has made you so cynical ? ” 
added the secretary. 

“ V ery little, indeed ; only I have seen many 
people and observed a few. But let me tell you 
here, my dear fellow, that if you, a secretary of an 
embassy, are pleased to undertake gallantry as a 
serious affair, it must be because you have a curi- 
osity to taste of hell upon earth.” 

Fabien bowed his head. 

“ You do not answer me ; your silence, more 
eloquently than words could have done, convinces 
me that you are already deeply infatuated. Ah ! 
you are according to this dear coquette the honor 
of a true affection ! At this rate, you will either 
go too far or not far enough.” 

As he was still speaking, Horace Didier, the artist, 
came and thoughtlessly joined the conversation. 


A LOVUB^S BBJf^ABD. 


89 


I knew it,” said he, “you are both enamored 
with Madame de Montebard. Like the Athenian 
who was tired of hearing the populace call 
Aristides the Just^ I begin to be weary of hearing 
her called the Divine.'''' 

“ A little less haughtiness, if you please ! ” ex- 
claimed Charles, laughing. “ It is not so long ago, 
my dear painter, since your brush, your palette, 
and your heart were at the feet of the marchioness.” 

“ I do not intend to deny that ; I adored her as 
an artist.” 

“ Was it love of the art that made you sigh in 
her boudoir and walk under her balcony ? ” 

“ Most assuredly ; in her I only saw a beautiful 
model to adorn the Louvre. The proof of my 
assertion, gentlemen, lies in the fact that I re- 
quested her to favor me with a sitting such as the 
Princess Borghese gave to Canova.” 

“ You proposed that to her?” exclaimed Fabien. 

“ Certainly.” 

“ And what answer did she give you? ” 

“ She hesitated at first ; there is some artist’s 
blood in the veins of this woman ; but the world’s 
opinion came to darken the poetry of my proposi- 
tion, and she finished by refusing. By it, you lost 
a Venus of the Alhane., gentlemen,” sighed Horace 
Didier. 


90 


A LOVEirS REWARD. 


Fabien turned to go away, his heart full of emo- 
tion, when the artist laid his hand on his arm and 
stopped him. 

“ One word, M. de Varny, I beg of you ; if I 
had known your address I should have called at 
your house some time since.” 

“ At my house ! and why, sir ? ” 

“ Have you any enemies ? ” 

“ Not to my knowledge.” 

‘‘ Then, I must inform you that you have. Be 
on your guard, especially on the streets, at night ; 
there are some fellows here who have designs on 
your life.” 

“ Who told you that ? ” 

“ My ears ; yesterday, I overheard a conversation 
between some repulsive looking scoundrels and 
a man dressed in fisherman’s garb, but whose ap- 
pearance and manner indicated that he belonged 
to a higher walk of society than that of a delver 
of the deep. From which conversation I learned 
that there is danger ahead for you.” 

“ What did they say ? ” • 

“ I heard but little, but I caught the words : 
Fabien.^ ntiletto^ and ducats. This -trilogy seemed 
to me to be of dismal augury. Take good care of 
yourself, M. de Vamy.” 


A LOVIJB^S BEIVABD. 


91 


“ Thank you, sir.” 

By the time lie left the palace of the Prince of 
Cassaro, Fabien had already forgotten the advice 
of the artist. Just as he was about to enter his 
own house, a footman, whose livery Avas disguised 
by a large cloak, slipped a note into his hand. 

Fabien opened it, and read as follows : 

“ I have just returned from the ball, and have been 
handed a letter that obliges me to seek the assist- 
ance of a friend. My thoughts turned to you. Am 
I wrong in obeying the instinct that suggested your 
name ? Do not lose a moment, then ; but come at 
once and I will inform you, on your arrival, why I 
need you. 

“ M. DE M.” 

Kissing the letter, M. de Varny immediately set 
out for the mansion of the marchioness. To reach 
there, he was obliged to traverse some dark and 
crooked streets. But his mind was so much en- 
grossed with the subject of the note, that he gave 
no thought to his surroundings. 

After making two or three turns, however, he 
fancied he saw some one following him. At first, 
he thought it might be some lazzaroni in search 
of adventure ; until the remembrance of Horace 
Didier’s words suddenly entered his mind. 


92 


A LOVERS HEW ABB. 


In crossing a narrow spot, which the clearness 
of the Italian night rendered as transparent as onr 
twilight, he lost sight of the shadow, but as he 
walked through an angular street, he saw it again, 
gliding along by a wall, and then vanishing. 

Fabien was not armed, but he was confident and 
brave; and taking the middle of the street, he 
kept a close watch on the windings of the walls. 
He now discerned the figure of a man in a corner 
where the shadows lay heaviest. As Fabien passed, 
the man sprang out from his concealment and 
made a thrust at him with a glittering stiletto 
which he held in his hand ; but M. de Varny turned 
quickly to one side and the weapon was buried 
in his cloak. Fabien at once seized the bandit by 
the throat and waist and thre w him upon the ground. 
In falling the stiletto fell from his hand. Fabien, 
who was as agile as he was vigorous, stooped, and 
picking it up, pointed it at the villain’s breast. 

“ Dare to move and I will kill -you,” he said. 

“ Per Baeco ! ” gasped the assassin, “ you hold me 
in such a manner as to prevent all such inclination ; 
your fingers seem made of iron.” 

Fabien loosened his hold on the bandit’s throat. 

“ Look out. If you attempt to move, you are a 
dead man,” said he. 



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A LOVERS S REWARD, 


98 


“ I shall not stir.” 

“ You promise not to do so ? ” 

“ I swear it ! ” 

“ An oath ! I would like something else better.” 

“ The word of a bandit.” 

“ I accept ; rise up ! ” 

Touched by this proof of confidence, the bandit 
rose up and stood motionless, with his arms folded, 
in front of Fabien. 

“ You can now lead me to the hargello ' said 
he, “if you think best ; it is your privilege.” 

“ I know it,” returned Fabien, “ but I shall not 
use it.” 

“ Dime ! ” ejaculated the wonder-struck ruffian, 
“ you are a noble cavalier ! It would have been 
a pity had I killed you. It is evidently Saint Gas- 
pard, my patron, who prevented me doing so.” 

“ Who paid you for trying to murder me ? ” de- 
manded Fabien. 

The bandit laid his hand upon his pointed beard. 

“ I have received money and I must not tell,” 
said he, after a minute’s meditation ; “ it would not 
be fair. You may guess it, however, if you wish.” 

“ I will think about it, presently ; take this now 
and go ; I hear a patrol.” 

“ What is this you give me ? ” 


94 


A ZOV^R^S RZfVARI). 


“ A few ducats ; you must not lose your time 
for nothing.” 

The bandit looked stupefied at Fabien for a 
second, then, with a great oath, exclaimed : 

“ You are a magnanimous lord ! If ever j^ou 
have any need of Gaspard the dragoon, write to 
the osteria of the Great Saint James, close by 
Portici, and, if I am living, rely on my services ; 
you will have need only to place your enemy within 
the range of my rifle.” 

“ Thank you, I have my sword,” readied Fabien 
scornfully. 

“ As you will, my lord, but it is all the same ; 
I have an idea, however, that an opportunity will 
be found to pay you back, some day or other.” 

This encounter with the bandit made Fabien en- 
tertain serious doubts of the authenticity of the 
note signed “ M. de M. ,” and-, as it was growing 
very late, he thought he had better postpone his 
visit until the following day. 

The next morning he presented himself before 
Madame de Montebard, to whom he gave the mys- 
terious note. 

“ What is the meaning of this practical joke ? ” 
asked the marchioness. 

“It is a joke that has seriously damaged my 


A LOVERS BEWAIW. 


\)o 


mantle,” answered Fabien ; and he gave her the 
account of his encounter with Gaspard. 

Madame de Montebard shivered at the narration 
of the danger which Fabien had so narrowly 
escaped. 

It will be a useful lesson to me,” added M. de 
V arny ; “ this is what is gained when we are con- 
ceited enough to believe that we rank amongst 
your friends.” 

The marchioness gave him her hand ; he kissed 
it, but he continued : 

/•I might have known that it was folly and pre- 
sumption for me to think I was numbered among 
your friends, since I fail to appreciate you as you 
deserve. But I must acknowledge that my joy was 
so great on first reading this little note, that, in my 
rapture, I pressed it to my lips, so much of folly is 
there sometimes in even the wisest of men ! Con- 
fess to me, in your turn, what you would have 
thought, had I been killed. Would you not have 
said that I only got what I deserved ? ‘ The fool- 

ish fellow ! ’ you would doubtless say, ‘ why did lie 
imagine that he was in a position to do a service 
to me, to me ! the Marchioness de Montebard, I 
who hold all Naples under my feet ? ’ — And, per- 
haps, in sounding the bottom of your heart, you 


96 


A BJEIFABD. 


might even feel a secret satisfaction in my lasting 
retirement from the list of your admirers. In the 
first place, because you thjnk I did not admire you 
sufficiently ; and secondly, the fact of a man dying 
for a lady’s sake, weaves a crown of glory for her 
brow.” 

While Fabien, all unconscious that he was doing 
so, was speaking so animatedly, Madame de Monte- 
bard remained with head bowed on her breast. As 
he concluded, she raised it up ; her eyes were wet 
with tears. 

“ You are cruel, M. de Varny ; what have I done 
to give you this opinion of me? And why do you 
accuse me of such callousness ? ” 

“Because I love you!^^ answered Fabien, pale 
with suppressed emotion. 

On hearing those words, which sounded to her 
ear sweet as the sweetest music, Madame de Monte- 
bard became a woman again. Her pearly tears, 
which had begun to fiow, were now stopped by the 
smiles which wreathed her rosy lips. 

“ You love me ! ” said she. “ Ah ! remembrance, 
then, has allowed itself to be conquered by 
hope?” 

“ I have no hope, madame, and that proves how 
much I love you ; and' if I may be daring enough 


A L0V:EB^S R^IFAIW. 


97 


to form a wish, it is that this love may find you 
ever insensible to its passion.” 

“ Ah ! ” observed madame, “ this is more of your 
originality, I suppose, is it not ? ” 

“ It is my sincere prayer. May it please God that 
this love, as it has no past, may have no future ! ” 

“ I fancy,” said Madame de Montebard, imper- 
fectly concealing her vexation, “ that I have the ♦ 
control of this affair, and I can give you the con- 
soling assurance that your prayer will be favorably 
answered. I shall, at least, endeavor to gratify 
you, and I imagine it will not he necessary to 
make a very great exertion, sir.” 

“I hope not, madame. However, the future 
does not belong to us, and I am certain that if 
you were one day to love me, this divine happiness 
would be paid for by me with eternal despair. I 
confess to you, I dread it.” 

“ Be calm ; I have no desire to torment you.” 

“ Oh ! madame, do you not know that a woman’s 
heart is a labyrinth which would require the 
threads of Ariadne to unravel its mysteries ?” 

“ I shall conduct myself so that it will not 
escape me.” 

“ I pray Heaven you may, for were I to obtain 

that thread, it would be a fatal acquisition,” 

7 


98 


A LOVIJB^S BBWABB. 


“ Other men have not this fear,” said the mar- 
chioness, becoming more and more annoyed. 

“ Pardon me, madame, hut you almost constrain 
me to tell you what must be an oft-told tale : it is 
that nobody loves you as I do.” 

“You were right in not wishing to tell me 
this, for what you now tell me is very common- 
place and very much worn out.” 

“ I felt sure of that ; every man has the pre- 
sumption to think that his love, of all others, is 
the strongest and best ; but the one that you will 
love, whoever he may be, wdll become the victim 
of a fatality which is in yourself and has its source 
in your pride.” 

“ Indeed, and wh}^ ? ” 

“ Because you love yourself too well to ever 
care very much for any one else.” 

“ Show me my equal and I will show you how 
I love ! ” she said, haughtily, looking at Fabien, 
with eyes sparkling with anger. 

“ Woe to the one who will realize this dream of 
your heart!” replied Fabien with a smile full of 
sadness ; “ for your love will be like the fires of 
Vesuvius, — much lava, then ashes. The dream 
will come from Heaven, but on awaking your idol 
will be shattered.” 


A LOVERS BEWAIW. 


99 


It is related that it was in the power of Cleo- 
patra to find kings who were ready to sacrifice 
their thrones, to reign one'^'day near her, and that 
even at such a price, would not have regretted it. 
You suppose me to have the pride of Cleopatra, 
allow me also, then, M. de Varny, to have all her 
presumption.” 

“From yow, madame,” gently replied Fabien, 
suddenly changing his tone and manner and taking 
her white hand, which she allowed him to kiss, 
“ from you, madame, one is willing to submit to 
everything, — even to being forgotten.” 

“ Do you wish me, then, to obliterate all remem- 
brances of the past ? ” answered Madame de 
Montebard, flattered into better humor by Fabien’s 
last remark. 

Fabien did not answer, but his looks, more elo- 
quently than words, betrayed the feelings of his 
heart. 

Never had the marchioness felt so agitated as 
she did after this visit, and the conversation which 
followed it. She kept going in and out of her 
room, now irritated, then smiling, humming a 
cavatina, or letting her snowy fingers glide along 
the ivory keys of the piano ; she would call her 
maid to dress her and then send her back abruptly ; 


100 


A HmVAIW. 


look at her face in the mirror, then put on and 
take off half a-dozen night-caps ; draw her hand 
across, her burning forehead and complain of the 
cold. At last, weary and faint, she threw herself 
on a settee, and, closing her eyes, fell into a deeper 
reverie than had ever before disturbed her joyful 
heart. 

What was the subject of her meditation ? — 
She thought of nothing and of everything ; or of 
what can be best summed up in these words : — 
She was thinking of him. 


A LOVERS HEW ABB. 


101 


CHAPTER VI. 

What La Toresilla was. — A meeting of friends. — Fabien em- 
barks in a strange enterprise. — The actress’s balcony. — How 
Fabien’ s adventure ended. — “ Gentlemen, breakfast ! ” 

At this time, there was a singer in Naples named 
La Toresilla, who was attached to San Carlo’s 
theater. She was a woman of average beauty and 
of rather meager ability. However, she caused 
considerable excitement, had a large number of 
admirers, and was, in some respects, the rival of 
Madame de Montebard in renown. 

This rivalry the noble marchioness did not ac- 
knowledge in any way, and when she did not notice 
it, who else could ? When she spoke of La Tore- 
silla, it was with a shrug of the shoulders and a 
look of sovereign disdain. 

It would be hard to explain whence the fame of 
the singer proceeded. Her expressionless face, in- 
different repartees, and a voice of suspicious purity, 
were not worth the attention they engrossed. But 
in all large cities where foreigners, money, and 


102 


A Lovmrs 


luxury abound, may also be found those queens of 
fashion whom fortune elevates, and accident im- 
molates. It would be useless to ask the reason of 
this, because there is none. Their existence is a 
fact, and must be accepted as such. 

An adventure with a German duke gave La 
Toresilla a reputation for intrigue ; and, from that 
day, she firmly maintained the position in which 
she had placed herself, without really thinking 
of it. 

This state of affairs had been going on for two 
or three years, when Fabien arrived in Naples. 

La Toresilla had squandered the fortunes of two 
or three scions of noble families, and seriously 
curtailed the patrimony of five or six gentlemen 
of financial fame, who were traveling on the Con- 
tinent. The gilded youth of Naples, and foreigners 
of distinction had introduced themselves at her 
house, because, like some other actresses of times 
past, she gave fine suppers and brilliant entertain- 
ments. 

As a natural consequence, therefore, many paid 
court to her, but, strange to say, very few were able 
to ingratiate themselves into her good graces. 

La Toresilla was, in her way, an eccentric per- 
son. Her position had inflated her with great 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


103 


vanity, which led her to believe that she was worthy 
of the most marvelous sacrifices and the most 
gigantic efforts being made to win her affection. 

It could be plainly seen by her manner, that 
she argued to herself like Madame de Montebard, 
whose reputation for beauty and wit made her 
despair. Men might ruin themselves trying to 
please her fancy without succeeding : the most 
costly gifts were regarded by her with a look of 
scornful disdain. But, in revenge, they would 
succeed with her by a glance, a word, a gesture, 
and those unknown means which seem to affect 
the most invulnerable hearts of those women who 
are corrupted by voluptuous habits. 

M. de Varny had been introduced at her house 
by Charles, but, although he had been well received, 
he returned but seldom, notwithstanding the fact 
that he was earnestly solicited to do so by Mr. 
Rockwell, who could not imagine how love could 
remove the idea of pleasure. 

Now, it happened that Fabien, with a dozen other 
idlers, were one night at the residence of their 
friend Max de Rheiss, when the conversation turned 
on La Toresilla. 

They were at table, and by the number of empty 
bottles on the sideboard, it could easily be seen 


104 


A LOVmi^S IIJSIVAIW. 


that they had been drinking deeply. One could 
tell by their conversation and the subject of their 
debate, that the wine had taken effect. 

“ To the devil with the proud minx ! ” cried 
Orlando the huntsman. “ For a fortnight I have 
been courting her, and I am just as far advanced 
now in her good graces, as I was the first hour ! ” 

“ Let us shake hands on that,” chimed in Horace . 
Didier ; “ she took with me the license accorded to 
a domino in a carnival of Paris, and I am a painter, 
she actually made me pose for her three days in 
succession. When I reproached her for her cruelty 
to a brother-artist, she replied, ‘ Of what, then, do 
you complain ?’ playing upon the words.” 

“ I came pretty near going farther still,” said 
Miguel Rasconti, looking at Fabien, who had kept 
silent about their encounter and recent adventure, 
and continued to meet him as before. “ But the 
upshot of it was that a whim undid what a fancy 
had accomplished.” 

Tell us the fancy, almost happy lieutenant,” 
said Fabien. 

“A knot of jonquil ribbon put me in favor 
with the signora ; a knot of lavender ribbon caused 
her to close the door of her boudoir to me.” 

“ This woman is herself a Gordian knot ! ” 


A LOVUJB'S BIJWABD. 


105 


exclaimed Max, whose face shone like a lob- 
ster. 

“ If the Bavarian grows witty, what will the • 
Frenchman do ? ” said Charles. 

“ He will drink,” remarked Max, pouring some 
wine into the glass of his neighbor and then fill- 
ing his own. “ Would you believe it, that I, 
Max, Baron de Rheiss, in one of those moments 
when the excited soul gives birth to the most 
chimerical projects — — ” 

“ After dinner ! ” interposed Fabien. 

' “ At an hour like this, when we dream of the 
impossible,” continued Max, “ I offered my hand 
to La Toresilla ! ” 

“Your hand I” exclaimed Horace Didier, with 
assumed indignation, “ the hand of a baron to this 
queen of the side-scenes ? Heavens ! my dear fel- 
low, you were not thinking of the Holy Empire 
when you dreamt of such a mesalliance ! ” 

“ Certainly, I forgot that,” gravely answered 
Max, swallowing his wine at a gulp ; “ she refused 
me, however, telling me that all the baronies of 
Rheiss in the world could not be sufficient to pay 
for her gallery of pictures.” 

“I, too, loved her,” said Antonio, in his 
turn. 


106 


A LOVjEJB'S HmVABD. 


“ People say that she was not indifferent to 
you,” added Charles. 

‘‘ That is a slander ! It was for want of a coat 
that I was not made happy.” 

“ Explain the enigma ! ” cried several voices. 

“‘You please me very much,’ said La Toresilla 
to me one night, ‘ and I am quite sure th3,t I 
would love you, if you only wore the Lancers’ 
uniform.’ — I then changed to that regiment to 
please her, but when I presented myself in my 
new costume, she loved the Hussars only.” 

“ To whom does she belong ? ” asked Orlando. 

“ You should rather say : ‘ Who belongs to 
her ? ’ ” answered Charles. 

“ This must be understood everywhere,” ex- 
claimed the painter, “ in Naples as in Paris.” 

“ They talk of some great personage, some 
charge d'affaires of the northern courts,” said 
Miguel, “ but as that personage is a diplomat, we 
will refrain from speaking of him.” 

“ Keep silent about him if you wish,” said Hor- 
ace, “ but let us supplant him.” ' 

“ Pshaw ! ” said an attacks of the Austrian lega- 
tion, “ to attempt is to miscarry.” 

* “ I have lost by it twenty sonnets and ten days,” 
observed a journalist. 


A LOVmi'S HEIF^AUB. 


107 


“ I really do not perceive what difficulty there 
is ill it,” said Fabien, “ for, from what you say, I 
should not think La Toresilla so hard to con- 
quer.” 

‘‘ Why do you not try ? ” said Orlando. 

“ The stake, as far as I am concerned, would 
not be worth the trouble of winning ; but I think, 
if I were very much in earnest, I would not take 
as much time as the rest of you.” 

“ You ! my dear friend,” exclaimed Charles, 
“ you, who are really the most timid man in exist- 
ence ! You^must be joking ! ” 

“ You are only laughing at us,” said Miguel. 

“ Not at all. I will let you see, if you wish, 
that a reserved and unobtrusive secretary can go 
farther than a dragoon.” 

“ I challenge you to do it ! ” 

“ I accept ! ” 

“ Hurrah ! ” cried Max. “ The vanquished will 
he at The expense of a dinner at Ginello’s, the 
divine caterer. Vbp victis ! ” 

“ How much time do you want ? ” asked Orlando. 

“ Whatever time you give me. A few days, if 
Max is not very hungry, or a few hours if he is 
still thirsty.” 

“ Make your own choice ! ” said Miguel. 


108 




“ I will take a few hours, as I do not wish to 
waste any time thinking about it.” 

“ Agreed,” said the artist. “ If the victory can 
be won by audacity, it will surely be yours.” 

“ When will you begin the attack ? ” asked Max. 

“ Immediately,” answered Fabien. 

“ One moment, gentlemen,” observed Orlando, 
as they all stood up ; “ who will inform us of your 
success ? ” 

. “ La Toresilla herself,” replied Fabien. “ Have 
you lived so little in the world, as to have yet to 
learn that it is not men who are indiscreet ? ” 

“ I have a better plan,” said Charles. “ La To- 
resilla to-night wore with the Assyrian cuirass, in 
Semiramides^ a knot of purple ribbon attached to 
her waist; you know that she is accustomed to 
leave the theater without changing her costume. 
The cuirass and the ribbon must therefore be at 
her villa. Let M. de Varny bring us the latter, 
and we will accept it as an earnest of the feast.” 

“ Be it so, gentlemen,” said Fabien. 

For a youth who made no pretensions to Don 
Juanism, Fabien embarked in a singular adventure ; 
but there is nothing more terrible than the way 
iu which reserved characters and timid hearts go 


A LOmn^S BIJIFABI). 


109 


quickly to the verge of extravagancy, when once 
they are pushed beyond their accustomed limits. 

Besides, the champagne had had its effects on 
Fabien, who, sometimes, proved himself capable of 
performing the most eccentric things with the great- 
est coolness. 

This evening he had talked much and mixed his 
wines, and his mind was also disturbed by his own 
love-affair ; for Madame de Montebard had treated 
him very badly during the day. 

His compaftions saw that he was in the best con- 
dition possible for carrying out his folly to the end. 

To tell the truth, he did not knoAV himself how 
he would get out of the scrape , but he counted a 
little on his own ingenuity and much more on his 
good fortune to assist him. Besides, he knew that 
La Toresilla was of an eccentric disposition, and 
with women of that character, the chapter of ac- 
cidents is infinite. 

Wrapping around him the cloak he had worn to 
the ball the evening previous, and taking a large 
cake from the table, he rolled it up in one end of 
the robe. Fabien saddled his horse and set out 
resolutely upon his expedition of gallantry. 

His associates followed him across the country, 
each one ready to burst with laughter. 


110 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


The night was advanced : a white streak of 
smoke caused by a sudden breeze could be seen 
curling around the summit of antique V esuvius ; 
the sea, which before had been perfectly placid, 
now caressed the shore with its white waves, and 
tlirough the clear atmosphere could be distinctly 
heard the far-away songs of the fishermen, as they 
plied their vocation. 

When they had arrived near the villa, the cav- 
alcade held counsel. 

“ In my position of general-in-chief ,” said Fabien, 
“ I now dismiss my army and allow it to rendez- 
vous at the nearest inn.” 

“ At that one, yonder ? ” asked Max, pointing 
with his finger to a house which bore in front the 
symbolic branch of pine. 

“ Good luck to you ! ” cried the troop, as they 
turned their horses’ heads in that direction. 

Fabien leapt over the space which still separated 
him from the gardens of the villa. A balcony 
filled with plants and ^ flowers, through which 
gleamed the light of a lamp, indicated to him La 
Toresilla’s apartment ; and towards this he directed 
his steps. 

|70 immense watch-dogs suddenly began to 
i in an alarming manner. 


A LOVEB^S BEWABD. 


Ill 


Fabien picked up a few large stones and climbed 
upon the wall that enclosed the gardens. When 
the dogs discovered him, a leg on this side, and one 
on the other, they at once sprang howling towards 
him. Fabien then took the cake and threw it as 
far as he could. It broke in falling, and the dogs, 
having tasted of it, found it so much to their liking, 
that each took a part and carried it to his kennel. 

“ This is putting a mythologic idea into form,” 
said Fabien to himself. 

A servant reclining close by was awakened by 
the noise ; he came out of the nook where he was 
watching the espaliers of the actress ; but when he 
saw, by the light of the stars, this black shadow 
astride the wall, he felt a trembling in the knees 
and his teeth chattered as though he had an ague- 
fit. 

As Fabien prepared to jump, his cloak became 
inflated, giving him such a gigantic appearance 
that the guard, taking him for some wraith, made 
the sign of the cross and then fled in precipitation, 
without uttering a word, so thoroughly frightened 
was he. 

Fabien put the ducats he had taken out back 
into his pocket. 

When he at last found himself under the bal- 


112 


A Lovmrs EE W A ED. 


cony, he became very much perplexed ; the dogs 
might come back at any moment, and the servants 
arouse the house ; he must make haste. 

At this moment, the light which glittered 
through La Toresilla’s window began to move. 
Some invisible hand appeared to be conveying it 
hither and thither; then the blinds half-opened, 
and a sweet voice cried into the night : 

‘‘ Pablo ! Pablo ! ” 

Pablo was too frightened to answer; he was 
still running. 

“ Pablo ! ” repeated the voice, and a woman’s 
head appeared, with her hair streaming down. 

“Pablo is gone away,” said Fabien, showing 
himself. 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed the lady, as she withdrew 
quickly. 

“ Let not the divine La Toresilla be frightened,” 
said the adventurer ; “he who speaks to you does 
not wish to act the part of a bandit.” 

Fabien noticed the blind moving ; the lady was 
listening ; fear was yielding to curiosity. He con- 
tinued : 

“ Calm yourself, madame, you have no cause 
h jar; it is only an adventure that brings 
n here, — a marvelous adventure on which 


A lov:ejb^s bbwabd. 


113 


the honor of a gentleman depends. Listen to 
me!” 

“ Who are you ? ” the actress said at last. 

“ Fabien de Varny.” 

“ The secretary of the French embassy ? ” 

“ The same, carrissima donnaP 

“ But, sir,” said La Toresilla, exhibiting her 
head, neck, and naked arms, “ you are mad ; the 
dogs will devQur you.” 

“ That may happen later ; but at present they 
are too busy dispatching the pastry I threw them.” 

The actress began to laugh. 

“ Hark ! do you hear them ? They are fighting 
for the remains,” continued he. 

“ Go away at once, then.” 

“ That is not what I came for. If I did as you 
say, what would become of the favor I came to 
claim from your gracious kindness ? ” 

“ As for that, I shall have plenty of time to 
attend to it to-morrow.” 

“ No ; it is better to ask your hospitality now.” 

“ This is a jest, M. de Varny,” replied La To- 
resilla ; but her voice was not an angry one. 

The situation looked exceedingly romantic and 
original to her ; she thought of Almaviva and of 
Rosine. ' 


114 


A LO VEIV S BE WA HD. 


“Well,” answered Fabien, “as you will not 
help me, I must make the best of circumstance.” 

He took hold of a trellis placed against the 
wall, and, grasping a grape vine, clambered up to 
the balcony, which he rapidly scaled. 

The dogs were quickly at his heels ; the sight 
of them inspired La Toresilla with such terror, 
that she stooped down and charitably assisted M. 
de Varny to ascend. 

Fabien raised the blind and entered dhe apart- 
ment, which was illuminated by a splendid Etrus- 
can lamp of curious workmanship. 

La Toresilla stood in his presence, clad only in 
a wrapper in which she had rapidly dressed her- 
self; her naked feet encased in velvet slippers, 
her hair, half unrolled, floating on her shoulders, 
while she blushed affectedly and gazed at him. 

A charming confusion gave to the room of the 
actress a coquettish appearance ; the costume of 
Arcacius lay glittering on an ebony prie-dieu^ 
above which smiled a divine Madonna of Guido. 
At the other end of the apartment, as a companion- 
piece to the Madonna, a Venus of Titian displayed 
its lewd proportions in a golden frame. The at- 
mosphere was impregnated with the balsamic per- 
f . ae of the orange and jasmine. 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


115 


Fabien looked around, forgetful of the motive 
that brought him there ; and, unconscious of what 
he was doing, laid aside his cloak, and throwing 
himself on an ottoman, respired in full the warm 
and voluptuous air which pervaded the room. 

La Toresilla waited anxiously for him to speak ; 
at last, seeing that he did not seem inclined to do 
so, she decided to break the silence herself. 

“ I beg your pardon, M. de Varny, for interrupt- 
ing your reverie,” said she ; “ but may I know 
what brought you here and what you wish ? ” 

Fabien, suddenly recalled to his peculiar posi- 
tion, looked at her, and, without evincing astonish- 
ment, candidly answered : 

“ I do not know, madame.” 

This was said so simply and with so much good- 
nature, that the singer never thought of feeling 
vexed, but laughed heartily at his coolness. 

Fabien let her laugh on; it gave him time 
for reflection. 

“ And for this you left Naples in the middle of 
the night and in this costume ? ” she asked. 

“ My faith ! madame, we often make longer jour- 
neys for a less result. Have I not seen you ? ” 

“ But this important favor, sir, this adventure 
on which depended the honor of a gentleman ? ” 


IIG 


A LOVEE^S EEWAED. 


“ That may be fiction or truth, just as you choose 
to consider it.” 

‘‘ I think it would be nearer the truth to call it 
an excuse for coming here ! ” 

“ As you please. I will inform you, then, that, 
being at table to-night with some friends, one of 
them, Charles Rockwell, who is also your friend, 
proved to me that I was enamored of you. To 
tell the truth, I had not noticed it myself, but there 
is nothing so terrible as an evil we are ignorant 
of.” 

“ And that is why you are here ? ” 

“ I was anxious to be the first to impart to you 
this discovery.” 

“ It is an attention for which I am infinitely 
obliged.” 

“I have not yet told you all. Shall I acquaint 
you with the incidental causes which decided this 
journey ? ” 

“ But, sir, you forget that it is late and that I 
need rest.” 

“ So much the better, — my story will put you to 
sleep.” 

'e have said that Fabien was a witty man, and 
he was one of those diplomats who affect that 
. ankness which is so serviceable both in politics 


A LOVEB^S BEWABD. 


117 


and in love. He, therefore, in keeping with his 
character, related the story just as it had occurred, 
omitting no detail, not even his boasting, the bet 
which followed it, or the pledge of success ; but he 
spoke impulsively and cheerfully. 

La Toresilfa was herself too eccentric to feel 
angry at Fabien. So, she listened complaisantly 
to his story, meanwhile carelessly abandoning her 
hand into his keeping. 

But we must be frank ; for had Fabien been pos- 
sessed of the will of Voltaire and the rapture of a 
Diderot, he would have made but little impression 
upon the singer, did she not know that he pos- 
sessed the reputation of being in Madame de Monte- 
bard’s good graces ; and the latter, as we have seen, 
was the hete noire of La Toresilla. 

The actress knew this ; so while Monsieur de 
Varny was talking, she was thinking that it 
would be pleasant to deprive the great lady of her 
cidsheo. Such a thought ripened very fast in the 
head of such a woman after midnight; besides, 
Fabien seemed to her a very original young man ; 
his frankness was unlike that of a rake, and it gave 
her a high idea of the boldness of his character ; 
she concluded by asking herself if it would not be 
better to let him win his bet. 


118 


A LOVi:ii'S Bi:WAliD. 


A noise of whispering voices was heard in the 
garden : the first light of the dawn glimmered 
through the blind. 

“ Madame,” said Fabien, smiling, “ I will now 
ascend the scaffold, if you allow me to descend 
this balcony.” 

“ Your friends are there ? ” 

“ They are waiting for me, and you will learn 
what you are still ignorant of — the manner in which 
they applaud a failure.” 

Fabien had taken one step toward the window, 
when La Toresilla made a sign with her hand. 
He stopped. She arose, ran to the prie-dieu^ 
lifted the blind and appeared on the balcony. 

The company, led on by Max, sMuted her with 
cheers. 

La Toresilla bowed, and placed her hand upon 
her heart, as she would have done before an audi- 
ence. Then, drawing the knot of purple ribbon 
off her breast, she threw it to them, crying : “ Gen- 
tlemen, breakfast ! M. de Varny thanks you.” 



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A ZOVEirs nEJFAUD. 


119 


CHAPTER VII. 

The day after the victory. — Conversation between Madame de 
Montebard and Miguel Rasconti. — In the Abruzzo. — The 
storm ; the hostelry ; the bandits. — The aspect of the osteria. 
— The artist Horace Didier and an encounter in the Abruzzo. 
— Madame de Montebard and the Piiritani cavatina . — The 
highwayman Giacom’s justice. — Miguel Rasconti’s reappear- 
ance. — The departure from the Abruzzo. — The dangers of 
the road. — Gaspard and Miguel ; the latter’s death. — The 
re-entry into Naples. 

Before noon, the next day, the adventure was 
known in every cafe and boudoir of Naples. 
Hawked about by scores of mouths everywhere, it 
had, in one hour, made the circuit of the town, 
and, as usual with such stories, assumed colossal 
proportions. It was spoken of at the royal palace 
and at the theater, at the business places and in 
the drawing-rooms. 

We leave the reader to imagine how Fabien was 
received, when he again appeared in public; his 
entry to the banquet was a regular ovation. It 
rested only with himself to believe that he had 


120 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


grown to the stature of a Richelieu, and, had he 
been cursed with vanity, he would have lost his 
head in the midst of the commotion his presence 
created. 

He had, however, discovered too quickly the' 
reason of his easy victory to take any pride in it. 
Besides, the thought of Madame de Montebard 
troubled him and made the cup of flattery turn to 
ashes on his lips. 

Instead of elating, his triumph grieved him, 
and Mr. Rockwell had little difficulty in guessing 
the truth in the midst of the torrent of words with 
which Fabien tried to shake off his subsequent 
meditations. 

“ You are afraid,” said Rockwell, “ and your 
own laurels prevent you from resting on them.” 

“ I can acknowledge this much to you,” answered 
Fabien. “Yes, lam afraid. What will this tri- 
umph avail me ? ” 

“ Who knows ? The marchioness’ character 
would lead astray all the ffidipuses of psychology. 
Are you lost? Are you saved? Serious ques- 
tions ! Perhaps you are neither saved nor lost.” 

“ What am I, then ? ” 

“ Nothing, only what you were yesterday, 
ime de Montebard stands upon so high a 


A LOVERS BE WARD. 


121 


pedestal, that from her elevation it is impossible 
for her to see La Toresilla.” 

That very night, Fabien met the marchioness at 
the hotel of the English ambassador. As soon as 
he entered, all the ladies whispered together and 
looked toward him. M. de Varny bore his tri- 
umph as a cross ; Madame de Montebard alone 
appeared unconscious of what had occurred ; she 
received him with the same grace and spoke to 
him with the same intimacy as before. Fabien 
felt annihilated under her- magnificent disdain ; 
he had counted upon her showing a little spite, and 
he met the most absolute indifference. To-night 
the kind regard of the marchioness dispelled all 
his hopes. For a moment he wrestled with the 
idea that this indifference was affected ; but, in the 
middle of the evening, a word extinguished the 
last gleam of hope in tlie heart of Fabien. 

“ There is much talk of a romantic adventure, 
M. de Varny,” said she, “ that you have had with 
La Toresilla, the fame of which has spread far and 
wide. Will you be kind enough to relate it to 
me to-morrow ? ” 

These words were uttered in so calm a voice, 
with such quiet regard, and so composed a smile, 
that Fabien was at a loss what answer to give. 


122 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


“Proud as Prometheus ! ” he exclaimed, follow- 
ing her with his glance, as she left the drawing- 
room. “ Charles has told me the truth ; in her 
eyes La Toresilla had no existence.” 

Some may think Fabien’s mortification was a 
sign of vanity poorly disguised. There is no need 
of any one being surprised at this, for the majority 
of men are affected by the same feeling, although 
some may succeed in veiling it more discreetly, 
owing, no doubt, to the triumphant example 
afforded them by the dear companions of their 
homes and hearts. 

But what was Fabien’s feelings the following 
day, when Madame de Montebard heard his story 
with manifestation of the liveliest amusement, 
and as if it concerned some one who had not loved 
her and whom she had never known ? 

“ I have not even touched the surface of this 
heart,” said Fabien sadly to himself. 

The marchioness roused him from his reverie to 
ask him if his new amour would prevent him from 
accepting an invitation, tliat she had thought for 
time of extending to him. It was to go with 
a cf igenial company, to visit one of her estates in 
thf Abruzzo, some thirty leagues distant from 
K- es. 


A LOmB^S BBIVABI). 


128 


“ You will find the country picturesque,” she 
said. “ Plenty of game and its uncivilized popu- 
lace is always a subject of curiosity to travelers. 
We will remain there several days, and Naples will 
appear all the more charming when you return 
to it.” 

Fabien at once accepted the invitation. 

But do you not fear,” remarked the lady, “ that 
La Toresilla will forget you during your absence ? ” 
If she were to go according to my wishes, she 
would do so.” 

Fabien took the marchioness’ hand and carried 
it to his lips. 

Madame de Montebard guessed his thought. 

“Oh!” said she, “no matter! the day that I 
abdicate, I feel convinced the empire will be all 
my own. Do you think La Toresilla can ever be 
rival ? ” 

But, as it is the case with women, Madame de 
Montebard told the truth, but not all the Truth. 

The excursion, which she had planned to take 
place in a few weeks, was hastened on, immedi- 
ately after the story of Fabien’s adventure was 
noised abroad. When it reached her, she felt a cer- 
tain emotion which was not lively enough to mani- 
fest itself by exterior signs, but which, nevertheless. 


124 


A ZOV-EB’S REWABD. 


made her anxious to leave Naples. She would have 
been unable to define the motive that inspired her, 
but she obeyed it without reflection, and M. de 
Yarny’s acceptance of her invitation greatly moved 
her. 

The abruptness of the marchioness’ departure 
disconcerted the plans of those who intended to 
accompany her, and it was found, when all was in 
readiness, that the party was reduced to a lady rela- 
tive, a big baron who held a position in the King’s 
household, his wife, Horace Didier and Fabien de 
Varny. Max de Rheiss, Charles Rockwell, Orlando 
Zacari, and a couple of ladies, promised to join them 
in a few days. 

Madame de Montebard, seemed unusually agi- 
tated on getting into the carriage, and a flush suf- 
fused her cheeks. Fabien asked the reason of her 
emotion. 

“ Nothing,” said she, “ I have only been just to 
myself ; that is all.” And she relapsed into silence. 

Madame de Montebard sometimes answered in a 
manner which precluded further questioning. 

There was, however, more in her emotion than 
■ustice of which she spoke. 

S, le had had, a few days before, an exciting inter- 
. with Miguel Rasconti, who availing himself 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


125 


of some trifling attentions, and perhaps also of 
some slight enticements that the marchioness had 
held out to him as well as to others, without notic- 
ing anything particular in them herself, had made 
an effort to make the most of what he called his 
rights. 

Madame de Montebard had laughed a great deal 
at his presumption ; but Fabien’s name having been 
intentionally mentioned in the conversation with 
some insolence, the marchioness, without taking 
pains to justify herself, felt compelled to dismiss 
the lieutenant of the Queen’s Dragoons from her 
presence. 

One or two letters followed this interview, and 
Madame de Montebard, tired at last of a correspond- 
ence which w^as assuming a bullying tone, so- 
licited from the Minister of War an order for the 
removal of Miguel. * 

She was too securely placed in court affairs not 
to obtain what she wanted, and Miguel, one morn- 
ing, received a ministerial note ordering him to 
start for Palerma, where he should thereafter have 
to keep garrison. 

Miguel could not have the order revoked, but in 
tracing the source of his misfortune, he guessed 
from whence came the blow that struck him. The 


126 


A LOVEirS llEWABD. 


very day of the marchioness’ departure, he had 
met and plainly expressed to her his indignation 
at her conduct. 

The marchioness eyed him haughtily from head 
to foot. 

“ I did not, at first, recognize you, sir,” said she ; 
“ for it seems to me that I solicited from INI. 
Miguel Rasconti the honor of not seeing him 
again.” 

Miguel turned pale as a corpse. 

“ And I tell you,” cried he, with a voice choking 
with anger, “ that you shaU see me again, sooner 
and nearer than you care to ! ” 

This conversation took place just before the 
marchioness entered her carriage. 

The company had been but a few days at the 
castle of Abruzzo, when Horace Didier proposed 
to pay a visit to a cascade whicli was said to be a 
very fine one, and which was situated at a distance 
of four or five leagues in a wild district, where 
goatherds and their goats were the only inhabi- 
tants. 

They started early, the artist with his brushes, 
Fabien with a rifle to shoot partridges, the ladies 
with their parasols, and the big baron with his 
decorations. 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


127 


The cascade was so very picturesque, that 
nobody regretted the hardships of the excursion 
when, as frequently happens in mountainous coun- 
tries, a storm coming up suddenly, obliged the 
whole party to seek shelter in a miserable little 
cottage, a most dilapidated affair, which was used 
both as a sheepfold and an inn. 

An old matron and her son kept the hostelry, 
which derived its only income from artists drawn 
thither by the wild and picturesque beauty of the 
country, and from shepherds who came there to 
tend their flocks. 

There is nothing like an accident to put people, 
who have no care, in good humor. Madame de Mon- 
tebard accepted the storm as an adventure. They 
laid out the food upon a tripod, plundered the stable 
and the yard to obtain a supply of milk and eggs, 
lit a Homeric fire, and each one endeavored to make 
as light as possible of the situation. 

General cheerfulness prevailed in the hostelry 
when, suddenly, the door was rudely opened, and a 
tall ruffian of athletic form, and dressed in the tra- 
ditional costume of the Fra Diavolo Calabrian, ap- 
peared upon the threshold. The matron, who was 
cooking an omelette, did not release her hold on 
the frying-pan ; neither did her son, who was pluck- 


128 


A ZOV^EB’S BZIFABI). 


ing some blackbirds, disturb himself ; it was evi- 
dent they were accustomed to visits of this kind. 

At the same instant, the two or three rude win- 
dows were burst in upon their rusty hinges, and 
faces surmounted by conical hats, thrust them- 
selves into the hall. 

At the sight of these newcomers, who might be 
very honest j^eople, although their costumes looked 
anything but reassuring, Fabien would have 
grasped his rifle ; but the man who was watching 
the door prevented him, and M. de Varny, who 
had only his hands for weapons, was obliged to 
retreat before a large knife, whose point glittered 
within three inches of his breast. 

“ Hold ! my master,” said the brigand who 
seemed to be the chief, and whose hat was dec- 
orated with fine silk ribbons, “ you have a hasty 
hand for a Neapolitan.” 

“ I am a Frenchman,” answered Fabien. 

“ I might have guessed it ; my compatriots are 
more peaceful. By Saint James, my defender, it 
is not your fault that my head was not in close 
quarters with the bullet of this musket.” 

Fabien no longer listened to the bandit’s remarks, 
but searching his pockets for a pair of pistols he 
had brought with him to exercise his skill upon 


A LOVERS UEWARI). 


129 


the magpies, took one out, and, without taking 
aim, fired. The bullet passed through the chief’s 
hat. 

“ Heavens ! you are then determined to shoot 
me ! ” cried the chief ; and, quick as flash, he 
snatched the other pistol from M. de Yarny’shand, 
while the latter was in the act of raising it. 

“ Let us put aside these playthings,” continued 
he, “ or we may hurt ourselves.” 

Fabien grew pale with rage, and looked around 
for a weapon ; but a supplicatory look from Madame 
de Montebard stopped him, just as he was about to 
precipitate himself at the throat of the bandit. 

The hostelry presented at this moment a singular 
spectacle : the matron occupying herself with 
cooking the eggs; the son picking the feathers 
from the birds, for he felt quite sure that some one 
would eafc them ; the kinswoman of the marchion- 
ess, a good old lady, who, following the traditions 
of the First Empire, prudently fainted ; the baron 
rolling his thumbs around each other and opening 
his large eyes ; his wife inhaling salts and meditat- 
ing a hysterical attack in a corner ; Horace Didier, 
who courted her at the castle, forgetting her spasms 
in order to sketch the scene ; — the artist prevail- 
ing over the lover ; — Fabien boiling with rage ; 


130 


A LOVEWS REWABD. 


Madame de Montebard clinging to his hand, pale 
and terror-stricken ; the bandit looking on smil- 
ing, while his comrades waited, with hands rest- 
ing upon their long rifles. 

“ My faith ! ” said the chief at last, advancing 
towards Fabien, “ you are a gallant young man, 
and I like courage. You have been more fortunate 
than you think, however, in having missed your 
aim. Signor Frenchman ; for if you had killed me, 
your own doom would have been sealed, and there 
would not have been one of your party left alive 
to tell Naples how the affair happened.” 

Madame de Montebard shuddered, and the 
baroness completely fainted. 

“ But, as you have only injured my hat, I will 
give it no further thought,” continued the chief. 
“ Here is my hand; you need not hesitate in taking 
it, for it knows not treachery ; it only relieves 
Englishmen once in a while of their plethoric 
purses, and that, you know, is not a deadly 
sin.” 

Fabien possessed the wonderful faculty of ac- 
commodating himself to circumstances, when he 
understood that it was not in his power to modify 
them ; he therefore took the hand of the bandit 
and shook it with apparent friendliness. 


A ZOVJ^'B^S BZWABZ, 


m 

“ Well done ; ’ cried the latter, “this is what I 
call acting like a gentleman.” 

Here, it is done ! ” exclaimed Horace Didier, 
with all the joy of a child, and with his paper in 
liis hand he ran towards the bandit. 

“ Do you recognize yourself, my brave fellow ? ” 
said he to him, displaying under his eyes a strong- 
ly drawn sketch. It was the osteria^ with its groups 
variously massed ; the artistic fidelity was striking. 

“ It is not a bad piece of work,” said the chief, 
with all the gravity of a connoisseur Smerite. 

“ This is, then, what you were doing over there, 
on that roost ? ” added he, pointing with his finger 
to an old trunk on which Horace had been seated. 

“ And I imagine that I have not lost my time I 
— What a painting for the coming exposition at 
the Louvre, with this inscription underneath : — 
An Encounter in the Ahruzzo /” 

“ Surely, you are a Frenchman too ? ” said the 
bandit. 

“ France is my country ; I will never desert her 
colors ! ” answered the artist in an elated tone. 

We will dine all the more gayly, because of it. 
I imagine that you will grant us the honor of par- 
taking of our slender meal,” replied the chief. 

They could not reasonably refuse a proposition 


132 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


made in this manner ; so the cover was soon 
spread, and all the inmates of the hostelry sat 
around the table. The baroness had recovered 
consciousness, just as a bandit was about to throw 
a jar of water upon her head; and the old lady 
imitated her example. 

Madame de Montebard had also regained her 
cheerfulness. Although she did not exactly 
realize the particular danger that menaced her, she 
understood instinctively that some unknown peril 
threatened her. While waiting till it would 
reveal itself, she talked and laughed. 

“You have made,” said she to the chief, “a 
sorry expedition.” And with the end of her rosy 
fingers, she drew from her pocket a tiny purse 
which dangled before the bandit. “ You cannot 
count this adventure amongst your successful 
ones.” 

“ This good fortune does not concern me,” said 
the chief, “ and I almost regret having undertaken 
it. However, an honest bandit must keep his 
word.” 

“What do you mean? ” asked Fabien. 

“ You will know it soon enough ! ” 

“ I hope that it will not bring harm to this fair 
lady?” 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


138 


“ It is not I at least who would do her an injury ; 
but, between ourselves, I do not believe that 
others wish her too much good.” 

‘‘ Who, would dare attempt anything against 
her?” cried Fabien, his eyes sparkling with indig- 
nation. 

“ What ! are you going to grow indignant, be- 
cause others had eyes to see what you take so much 
pleasure in looking at ? I think that instead of 
quarreling about what has not yet happened, it 
would be wiser to enjoy ourselves ; yonder is a 
mandolin ; I hope my pretty neighbor will have 
the kindness to favor us with some music.” 

“ Most assuredly,” said Madame de Montebard, 
who was anxious above all things to avoid a 
quarrel between Fabien and the bandit. 

She took the instrument from the hands of the 
chief, and began to sing the cavatina of H Puritani. 

Her voice, beautiful and expressive at all times, 
resounded in the osteria with a power increased 
by emotion. The bandits, who were endowed 
with musical taste, encouraged her by their pleased 
expression, and all the chivalry of their ardent 
natures was awakened by this song, which filled 
the hall with such passionate melody. 

When the music ceased, the air was rent by 


134 


A ZOVI^B'S BZJFABZ. 


their frantic liuzzahs. The chief broke his glass 
against the wall. 

“ May Saint James strangle the accursed Neapol- 
itan who paid me to perform his service ! ” cried 
he violently. But the noise of his voice was lost 
in the uproar of applause. 

“ Aneora ! Ancora ! ” cried the bandits with 
enthusiasm. 

“ Be it so ! ” again answered the marchioness, 
exalted by her own triumph. 

“ How greatly I admire you for your courage, 
madame ! ” said Fabien to her. , 

“ Oh ! ” replied she, “ this courage is but the 
effect of terror, the delirium of fear. And now, 
this furia intoxicates me ; they do not applaud 
like this at San Carlo’s ! ” 

As she was concluding the aria of the Lucia in the 
midst of a tempest of applause, a bandit stepped in. 

“What! Signor Frenchman, you here?” said 
he, coming close to Fabien. 

It was Gaspard the dragoon. 

Fabien related to him in a few words what had 
transpired. Gaspard listened attentively. 

“ By the horns of the devil ! ” cried he, “ this 
will end better than it has begun.” And he went 
straight to the chief. 


A LOVER'S EE WARD. 


135 


The two bandits conferred together, and Fabien 
and Madame de Montebard understood that their 
fate depended on this moment’s decision. The 
chief and Gaspard talked animatedly, meanwhile 
occasionally looking at both of them ; the eyes of 
the marchioness and Fabien also met, and the 
marchioness’ expression was so sweet, that M. 
de Varny was even anxious that the peril should 
be prolonged, fearing to see his happiness vanish 
with the danger. 

At last, the chief came towards them. 

“ You have,” said he to Fabien, “ given life to 
this man, who is one of mine ; after what I myself 
have seen of your boldness, your generosity does 
not astonish me, but it deserves a reward, and you 
will get it as good as you can wish. For you, 
madame,” added he, turning towards the marchion- 
ess, “ you deserve something better than the fate 
which was in store for you. What Gaspard has told 
me, and what I have myself perceived, leads me to 
understand'why the same Neapolitan is anxious at 
the same time to have your life. Signor Frenchman, 
and your liberty, charming donna. But you will 
see how Giacomo the bandit metes out justice.” 

On a sign from the chief, Gaspard disappeared. 
Horace Didier again seized his pencil. 


136 


A lov:eb^s bewabd. 


An instant later, Gaspard reentered, conducting 
Miguel Rasconti. 

“ The infamous scoundrel ! ” shouted Fabien, and 
he was about to rush upon the Neapolitan, when 
Giacomo stopped him. 

‘‘ This affair does not concern you as yet,” said 
he; “I command here, and I must be obeyed. 
Later and further on, you may do as you please.” 

Then, turning towards Miguel, he said : 

“ You gave me five hundred ducats to capture 
this lady and to deliver her to you ; I have taken 
the ducats and captured the lady. But as we 
always have the privilege to break off a bargain by 
giving back what we receive, I return you your 
gold, and I give this lady her liberty.” 

A heavy purse fell at the feet of the lieutenant. 

“ Out of my presence now ! ” continued the 
bandit, “ and if you dare to attempt to injure either 
of them, let it not be on my domains, or you will 
not get away with a whole skin ! ” 

Miguel spurned the gold from him with his 
foot. 

“ I never take back what I give ; let your men 
divide this gold between them ! ” 

My men keep only what they have earned ; 
you know that we^.” 


.1 LOVER'' S BEWAlil). 


137 


“ By the manner in which you keep your promise, 
I have much reason to doubt it. As for this bag, 
I leave it to the hostess.” 

“ Begone ! ” cried Giacomo, whose determined 
face was beginning to show signs of anger. 

“ Be it so ! but here or elsewhere, in Naples, or 
on your domains, I shall yet meet thy dependants, 
signor bandit.” 

“ Take care that you do not meet my rifle also, 
most woful lieutenant ! ” 

Miguel slowly retreated, after casting an ominous 
look around the hut. 

“ You are at liberty ! ” said Giacomo turning to 
Madame de Montebard and Fabien. 

Both took him by the hand and thanked him, 
while the marchioness tried to force him to accept 
for his troop a sum equal to the one he had lost 
by his generous action. 

Giacomo stopped her in the midst of the thanks 
she was stammering out. 

“No,” said he, “ let us have the merit of our 
generosity. Bandits as we are, we have our pride ; 
but if ever any of my band is carried to Naples, 
remember the o^teria^ 


It may be conceived that after such an advent- 


138 


A LOVBB^S BEWABD. 


ure, a prolonged stay at the castle of Abruzzo 
could not be agreeable to Madame de Montebard. 
She often beheld in her dreams the livid face of 
Miguel Rasconti, and her terror was so great that 
she would not venture outside the castle ; every 
shepherd she saw upon the hills was transformed 
by her imagination into a bandit lying in wait for 
her. 

She hastened her preparations for departure, con- 
cluded as speedily the business of rent and of hire, 
and started back to Naples, five or six days after 
the encounter at the osteria. 

As she descended into the level country, leaving 
behind her the mountains with their notched sum- 
mits, she recovered her careless gayety, and, after 
the first night’s lodging, she already began to for- 
get her fears and to laugh at the terror which made 
her imagine every passer-by to be one of Miguel’s 
emissaries. 

As the weather was mild and delightful, they 
traveled by short stages, visiting curious sites, 
ascending heights and breakfasting among the 
ferns. Madame de Montebard sang, Horace 
Didier sketched, and the little party returned to 
Naples, one of the happiest in the world. 

One morning, at the foot of a hill, the mar- 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


139 


chioness and Fabien descended from their horses 
in order to visit a little chapel whose spires could 
be seen in the distance, and from whence a fine 
view could be had of the surrounding country. 

Horace remained to sketch an old shepherd who 
had given him a sitting for a franc. 

The baron and baroness were asleep in the 
calecJie. 

The chapel stood in a deep solitude on the angle 
of a steep declivity, around which the road wound 
into the woods. 

Fabien and the marchioness were about to enter 
the chapel, when the former perceived a man’s hat 
rising up behind the stone wall of an inclosure, 
and a rifle protruding. But before he could recog- 
nize the enemy who was menacing them, an ex- 
plosion was heard, and the hat and rifle disappeared 
behind the wall. 

Fabien turned his head to the side from which 
the noise of the detonation came ; a light cloud 
of whitish smoke floated above the hedgerow behind 
the road, and from the center of this row Gaspard 
stepped out. 

“ This time,” cried the dragoon, “ the work is 
really finished, he will torment you no longer.” 

“ Who ? ” asked Fabien. 


140 


A LOVIJB’S HmVABD. 


“ Come and see, since you cannot guess.” 

Gaspard led Fabien behind the wall of the in- 
closure. 

They found Miguel Rasconti lying on his back 
in a shepherd’s costume, and a cocked rifle by his 
side. Gaspard’s bullet had struck him in the fore- 
head and instantly killed him. 

“ Oh ! I have not lost track of him since you 
left the castle,” said the dragoon. “ When he 
took aim, I shot him. Now, we are even. Liberty 
for liberty, life for life ! ” 

Gaspard shook hands with Fabien, threw the 
rifle, which he had loaded again, upon his shoulder, 
and disappeared in the distance. 

That very night Madame de Montebard re- 
entered her Toledo Street mansion. 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


141 


CHAPTER VIIL 

Madame de Montebard discovers how dear Fabien is to her. — 
“ To wait and act.”— Fabien’s letter to the Marchioness.— 
Visit to Villa Orso. — Peppe’s confession. — Fabien prepares 
to go. — Madame de Montebard at Fabien’ s house. — Why M. 
de Varny did not go.— Fabien’ s love for the Marchioness.— 
Plis presentiments.— “ Oh ! wish not for such a love, it 
kills !” — M. de Montebard’s illness. 

For the first time in her life, the marchioness 
was in presence of, a cicisheo^ all the more to be 
dreaded since she felt that his cause had an advo- 
cate in her own heart. But if, in the silence of her 
boudoir or in the reverie of solitude, she was willing 
to acknowledge how dear the secretary of the em- 
bassy was to her, she was irritated to see their 
names mixed in the drawing-room gossips of the 
day, the report of their adventure in the hostelry 
of the Abruzzo having been noised throughout the 
town. 

Possessing the character she did, there was 
surely as much pride as chastity in this indigna- 
tion, and she showed it plainly in her conduct. 


142 


A LOVEWS REWARD. 


She promised to herself, at first, to have greater 
reserve in her relations with M. de Varny, and 
afterwards to quietly repulse him, without show- 
ing any pity for his love ; but it is easy to make a 
good resolution, — the most difficult part is to 
keep it. 

As for Fabien, he came back to Naples : 

“ Le coeur tout debordant d ’emotions divines,”* 

as the poet has written. This life d deux — double 
life — agitated by so many perils, intoxicated him. 

He found Charles Rockwell on better terms 
with La Toresilla, who made Fabien see by the way 
she received him, the anger she felt at his forget- 
fulness. But it was a matter about which Fabien 
was quite indifferent, and he paid as little attention 
to her threats as he did to the attempt she made 
to control a heart which had never belonged to 
her. 

“ What method have you taken to subdue this 
rebel who, if I remember rightly, repulsed your 
previous assaults ? ” asked Fabien of Charles Rock- 
well. 

“ I waited.” 

“ Is that all ? ” 

* Victor Hugo : Les Feuilles d'Automne, xxiii. 


A LOVIJB’S BBIFABB. 


143 


“ What ! all ? But, my dear fellow, do you not 
know that this is the most difficult thing in the 
world to do ? Impatience ruins half of mankind ; 
awkwardness misleads the rest. Strong men are 
patient, and you Avill one day know that nothing 
can resist those who have learned to wait.” 

“ I have always believed in those who knew how 
to act.” 

“ Perhaps ; but there is often much imprudence 
in action. I, in everything, belong to this new 
and intelligent class who believe that the occasion 
lost is to be found again. Life is only made up 
of defeat and revenge. See La Toresilla, for in- 
stance.” 

“ But you never reach triumph by defeat alone.” 

“ What matters the way we take, provided we 
reach our journey’s end ! Here, my dear M. de 
Yarny, in heart affairs you act as though you were 
but twenty years old ; you know that if I am smitten 
with Madame de Montebard, you also know how 
little I am jealous, and how little I try to please 
hei . W ell, then, wait again for six weeks or six 
months, and the day your love shall be crowned, 
I shall nearly gain my aim.” 

Indeed ! ” said M. de Yarny, with illy disguised 
indignation. 


144 


A Lovmrs BmvABi). 


“ You either believe me to be a veritable fop, or 
you think that I blaspheme. I am neither impious 
nor vain. I have simply some experience.” 

Fabien, who never left Mr. Rockwell without a 
sore heart, hurried to Madame de Montebard’s 
house, that she might again put life and faith into 
him. 

But since their return from the Abruzzo, the 
hand of the marchioness no longer lingered in that 
of M. de Varny; her looks had no more that soft 
and limpid brightness that distills hope ; her words 
were no longer embellished with a smile, eloquent 
as a promise. Prudery, like the blast of winter, 
had chilled the blossom of her love. 

Fabien loved too sincerely to understand any- 
thing in this change, in which a profligate would 
have read an avowal. He was in the depth of de- 
spair, and, while longing for an explanation, did not 
attempt to provoke it. 

One day, however, when Madame de Montebard 
had received him more coldly than usual, he re- 
turned home in a state of grief that can only be 
understood by those who, having loved. And them- 
selves suddenly isolated in their affection. 

He thought that the time had come to take a 
decisive step, and having set his business affairs in 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


145 


good order, he wrote to the marchioness the follow- 
ing letter : 


“ Naples, September 15^A, 18 — . 

“Pardon me, madame, for my presumption in occu- 
pying your time by relating to you what probably is 
of importance only in my own eyes. But when you 
learn that this is the last time I shall, undoubtedly, 
annoy you with my troubles, you will, I feel con- 
fident, accord me the favor of reading this letter, 
for the same reason that you would grant to a peas- 
ant the honor of your hand at a country dance. 

“ You have accustomed me to an intimacy that was 
dear to me, to a confidence that was precious to my 
heart. My love, timidly expressed, obtained more 
than it had ever dared to hope for, and I blessed 
you in my soul for all the joy that you gave me. 

“ You have withdrawn from me this friendship 
and confidence, madame ; I must certainly have com- 
mitted some fault for which you punish me. I have 
no right to complain ; but still I must ask you to 
absolve me in your conscience, for I am ignorant 
of having committed any wrong, and if I have done 
so, it was without my knowledge. 

“ I could have wished, if I have acted wrongly, 
that it were in my power to remedy it, and I would 
do it at the cost of my life. You have not conde- 
scended to inform me of this fault, but I must sub- 
mit and accept my condemnation, since such is your 


146 


A LOVER'S REWARD. 


will. My heart is too full of your image to remain 
near you, knowing that you are offended ; for your 
coldness and disdain cause me greater suffering 
than I can endure. I have resolved on the wisest 
course, — the only practical one. This evening, my 
resignation will be handed to the ambassador, and 
to-night I shall leave Naples, never to return. 

“ To say to you that in going my heart is broken, 
is only the simple truth, madame ; but to add that 
this heart will faithfully bear your remembrance 
to the grave, will perhaps bring a smile to your 
lips. I, however, know that it is not a falsehood, 
as the future will prove to you. 

“ I go to Paris, but not to find rest and forgetful- 
ness : I cherish my love too deeply to desire to be 
rid of it ; but I go there because it is the city of all 
others where one can the most easily lose himself 
in solitude. It is like an ocean, the immensity of 
which conceals all that enter it. 

“ It was sweet for me to think that the relations 
that united us would never cease ; for a long time 
this belief has comforted me, and I found in it a 
happiness that language cannot express. 

“ This happiness was not of long duration ; what 
earthly joy ever was ? It would have been very 
unkind in me to blame you for this ; so I cast my 
sorrow on the mysterious power that rules our hearts, 
and who would not have these affections prolonged, 
in order that we may not regret this poor world too 
much, when the time comes for us to leave it. 


A LOVIJB^S BBWABI), 


147 


“ Farewell, madame ; I will no longer trouble yon 
with one to whom you have given the name of friend, 
and one who does not believe that he has paid too 
dearly for this title, by leaving yon, in return, all 
his life and all his love.” 


Fabien signed this letter and sent it to its ad- 
dress. When he heard the messenger depart, it 
seemed to him that his heart was going too ; he 
fell into a chair and began to weep like a child. 

However, Madame de Montebard had, this very 
day, left Naples for the villa Orso, which she had 
not seen for a long time. 

The report of the death of Lieutenant Miguel 
had reached there ; and it was said that this mys- 
terious death would bring to light many hidden 
events. Peppe, who, as we know, had frequent 
dealings with the lieutenant, was much agitated, 
when the marchioness unexpectedly arrived at the 
villa. This visit seemed to him a sure sign of the 
discovery of his complicity in the affair, the conse- 
quences of which he dreaded. Full of fear, then, 
and knowing the goodness of his mistress, he de- 
termined to confess his misdeeds, hoping that his 
frankness would be an argument in his favor. 

Madame de Montebard was utterly astounded. 


148 


A HmVAED. 


when she heard the account of the attempts that 
had been made against her, and which had mis- 
carried only through the intervention of M. de 
Varny. Fabien had not even spoken to her on 
the subject, and his devotion, combined with such 
delicate discretion, touched her. Her heart was 
filled with secret reproaches when, on her return 
to Naples, Fabien’s letter was given to her ; she 
read it hastily and fell upon a sofa, her mind 
perplexed and overwhelmed with grief. 

From what she knew of Fabien’s character she 
did not doubt for a moment but that he would 
carry his project into execution. She was affected 
by the love of this young man, who did not even 
reproach her hardness of heart, but who accused 
himself alone for being the cause which destroyed 
the promise of so brilliant a future. 

For the first time she felt her heart melt at the 
thought of his passion, deep and restrained, eager 
and devoted, chaste and loyal. She realized that 
this love was worthy of being reciprocated, and 
that it would be a pity to let Fabien go without a 
single word of consolation, or a smile to restore 
him to life and hope. 

Thus, as is always the case wdth vivacious and 
unstable natures, Madame de Montebard excited 


L O VEW S EE \VA RD. 


149 


herself by following the rapid flight of her thoughts, 
and, acting on her first impulse, she made in a few 
moments more progress in this direction than she 
would have done had she tried to conquer herself. 

She did not, however, know what resolution to 
take ; a thousand projects presented themselves 
to her irresolute mind, and alternately she adopted 
and rejected them. She attempted to write, but the 
words her agitated hand traced on the paper did not 
clearly express her thoughts ; they either told too 
much or did not say enough. At last she finished 
a letter, but when she had signed it, she discovered 
that this letter, commencing with reserve, ended 
with passion ; there was a reproach in the first 
line ; in the last, an avowal. She tore it up ex- 
citedly and arose. She was astonished at the pict- 
ure of herself she saw reflected in the mirror ; she 
was flushed as if with fever, and her eyes sparkled 
with an unnatural light. 

No matter what she did, her thoughts involun- 
tarily went back to Fabien’s farewell letter, and 
when she had read it anew, tears came to her eyes, 
rolled down her face, and she was amazed to find 
herself sobbing over this piece of paper, until she 
could no longer distinguish the writing through 
her tears. 


150 


.1 LOVEIVS REWARD, 


While she was still absorbed in thought, Charles 
Rockwell was announced. She had barely time 
enough to remove the traces of tears from her 
cheeks and assume a smiling face before he entered. 
This was done with the readiness which is a ne- 
cessity in the life of a devotee of the heau-monde. 

With his usual careless manner of speaking, Mr. 
Rockwell alluded to the sudden departure of Fabien 
from Naples. 

“ Do you think the report is true ? ” demanded 
Marcelina, with an effort to appear indifferent. 

“ Quite true, madame,” replied the tourist. “ I 
have just left him making preparations for his 
departure ; and he will be in readiness for the 
post-chaise, in two hours from now.” 

Madame de Montebard started up ; her eyes on 
the dial ; in two hours it would be midnight. 

“ I shall see him again in Paris,” continued 
Charles, but we will miss him at Naples this 
winter. He was an intelligent young ^nan, al- 
though a little too sentimental, perhaps.” 

This coldness on the part of Rockwell greatly 
annoyed Madame de Montebard, who, with her pas- 
sionate nature, could not understand how any one 
professing to be friend of another, could speak with 
such indifference. 


A ZOV^B^S BZWABZ. 


151 


She replied rather sharply, and Mr. Rockwell, 
examining her more attentively, discovered the 
traces of her recent emotion still fresh upon her 
face. A moment later he rose to go, and Madame 
de Montebard did not try to detain him. 

Charles’s apparent indifference only served to in- 
crease the feverish sentiments of the marchioness, 
as the wind fans the ardent flame. It was now 
eleven o’clock ; she partially opened the window ; 
the night was dark ; she heard the sound of Charles’s 
retreating steps becoming fainter and fainter in 
the distance ; then, as if carried away by some ir- 
resistible impulse, she flew down the flight of stairs 
leading from her private apartment to the street, 
and ran to Fabien’s residence. 

She did not know what she was going to tell 
him, but she was anxious to see him at any cost. 
A servant yawningly opened the door; it was 
then nearly midnight. Passing like a flash in 
front of him and before he had time to question 
her, Madame de Montebard, without hesitating, 
made her way to Fabien’s apartment. 

A lamp burned upon a table strewn with papers ; 
the whole room was in the utmost disorder, pre- 
senting nothing to the view but trunks and port- 
folios; the bureau-drawers and wardrobes stood 


A ZOVIAi’S HZArAUZ. 


152 

open and empty, and the young man, overcome 
with fatigue and weariness, had thrown himself, 
without undressing, on the lounge, where he lay in 
a sort of troubled sleep. 

His lips moved as if he were trying to speak, 
and Madame de Montebard, who was now trem- 
bling with excitement, believed she heard her own 
name pronounced. She advanced into the apart- 
ment, and as she did so her foot struck against 
something on the floor. 

The young man started up : ‘‘ Marcelina ” he 
cried in a voice that came from the heart. 

Tears rose to Madame de Montebard’s eyes, and 
she fell into his arms. 

M. de Varny did not send in his resignation, and 
forgot that he had contemplated a return to Paris. 

Walking out, the next day, it seemed to his 
rapt senses that Naples possessed a new beauty, 
the sky a more infinite glory, the murmurings of 
the sea sounded like music to his ears, and the air 
was laden with magical perfumes. He saw the 
whole world through the prism of love, and this 
heartfelt emotion gladdened and beautified every- 
thing that lay before him. He would have wished 
that Naples had only one head to be able to kiss it 
wholly in one embrace 









«*< 










Marcelliiui! He cried. Page 152 



A Lovmrti njnkFAHjj. 


163 

Before this, he had only loved Madame de 
Montebard ; noAv he adored her. This, the mar- 
chioness was soon made aware of, and she recalled 
the day when Fabien had spoken to her of his 
love, which was fed by remembrance. Her joy 
WHS extreme on finding that he had not deceived 
]ier, and, at first, fascinated, trans[)orted by this 
passion, which concentrated in itself all the intel- 
lectual strength of M. de Varny, she abandoned 
herself to him with all the ardor of youth and 
imagination. 

This was for a space of fifteen days : — fifteen 
days of fever, of transport, of delirium. 

Madame de Montebard was, however, loved too 
deeply. At first, she was intoxicated by the trans- 
port of his affection, but, very soon, her heart 
began to vacillate. Frightened at this discovery, 
she could not help feeling grieved ; she questioned 
herself what her future life would be, if she so 
soon experienced this coldness and disenchant- 
ment ? She made a sincere effort to again attach 
herself to Fabien, and so great a part did imagina- 
tion play in her organization, that, for a time, she 
believed that she had succeeded in recovering 
her first enthusiasm. 

Wherever true love exists, there exists also a 


164 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


kind of magnetic divination ; and Fabien felt the 
change in her, before it manifested itself, just as 
the sailor anticipates the tempest by the ripples 
upon the glittering surface of the waters. From 
that dajf his happiness was poisoned ; fear stole 
into his heart as the worm into the fruit ; his joy 
became extinct, and a voice cried to him that 
henceforth he must dwell alone with this passion 
bound to his side as Dejanira with her robe of 
fire. 

He had reached that supreme height where’ love 
judges and yet loves on. Nothing of Madame de 
Montebard, her desires, thoughts, hopes, weariness, 
was unknown to him; he read her heart as an 
open book, and yet nothing could extinguish or 
cool the passion which was surging in his blood. 
Illusion no longer amused him, hope no longer 
lulled his sleep ; he saw, he knew, he judged as a 
philosopher, and he adored as a scholar. 

Let no one cry out that this is paradoxical 
exaggeration and impossible ; we but relate what 
many have seen, what some have felt ; the phe- 
nomenon exists ; let those explain it who can. 

Ere long a premature paleness overspread the 
face of Fabien, and, haunted by a fatal thought, 
his days floated by, like a dark and silent stream. 


A LOVEWS Ri:WABD. 


155 


whose heavy surface was only occasionally lit up 
by a sinister glow. 

One night, at the hotel of the Austrian ambas- 
sador, Charles Rockwell w^as struck with Fabien’s 
altered appearance, and by closely observing 
Madame de Montebard and M. de Varny, he 
began to understand the silent drama that was 
being enacted between them ; he shrugged his 
shoulders and said to himself with a smile : 

“ Poor young man ! yonder is the lighthouse 
which reveals the harbor to me ! ” 

Then, with the temerity of skeptical philosophy, 
he joined Fabien and said to him abruptly : 

“ My dear fellow, you resemble Pyrrhus of 
Epirus ! Another such victory, and you are 
lost ! ” 

It occasionally happens that the most discreet of 
men, under the influence of a sadness in which 
a life-time seems compressed, overflow as a vessel 
too full, and leave their secret open to penetration. 

Taken unawares, and completely disconcerted 
by this rude attack, Fabien energetically clasped the 
hand of Charles Rockwell in his own. 

“ I do not need another victory,” said he ; “ there 
are some battles in which we do not care to engage 
more than once.” 


156 


A LOVEB'S BE WARD. 


‘‘ She loves you, notwithstanding.” 

“ She loves me ! look at her eyes ! on whom do 
they gaze ? — The multitude that admires her or 
this mirror which reflects her image ! See that 
smile ! what causes it ? — The joy of her triumph, 
the intoxication of pleasing ! Where can you 
detect any sign of love in that face glowing with 
the pride of beauty ? Whence go her desires ? — 
To the unknown passer-by, and to him who gives 
her the promise of another triumph ! She loves 
me ! But there is not a single flower in her hair, 
not a ribbon of her dress, not a pearl of her neck- 
lace, in fact any one thing that adorns her, that 
she does not prefer to me ! Of little importance 
is my love to her ; I belong to her, she knows that. 
Do you understand it ? I belong to lier^ so that I 
am what she can break, annihilate at her fancy. 
Yet what am I ? — The past ! that is an old story 
of which her ear is tired. But Orlando, there, 
Max, Charles, any of you, are the future with all 
its mysteries ! Oh ! she loves me ! Ask her, then, 
the sacrifice of this ball — an evening party at San 
Carlo’s — this scarf that caresses her shoulder — least 
of all, the bouquet from which she strips the 
leaves, that the tempest of my heart may be 
appeased, and I stake my life against one haiocel 


A LOVBB^S BJSWAUD. 


157 


that she will shake her pretty head in disdain and 
devote herself with fresh ardor to the dance. She 
loves me ! Oh ! do not wish foi* such a love, — it 
kills ! ” 

“ That may be, my dear fellow,” coolly answered 
Charles, “ hut acknowledge that it is a little your 
own fault.” 

“ What ! have I not given her my thoughts, my 
soul, my whole existence ? ” 

“ Too much ! too much ! If you begin by giving 
all to these charming daughters of Eve, how, then, 
do you expect to gratify their wishes after- 
wards ? ” 

“ Are abnegation and devotedness to be counted 
as nothing? And does she not know, that from 
me she can have all, demand all, because there is 
in my heart an inexhaustible source of kindness 
and of mercy ? ” 

“ If she did not know that so well, it is very 
probable that she would value it more. But, my 
dear fellow, you have acted like a prodigal, and 
prodigals ruin themselves in love as well as in 
fortune.” 

“It is enough to drive one insane,” said Fabien. 

“ Pshaw ! ” observed Mr. Rockwell, “it is noth- 
ing but a lesson ! ” — He turned upon his heel, and. 


158 


A BJSJFARI). 


two minutes afterwards, was close by the mar- 
chioness. 

But if Fabien was often depressed by his suffer- 
ings, he also felt at times the intoxicating exalta- 
tion of love. At such times he would forget all 
and abandon himself to the voluptuousness of the 
hour, without regretting the past, without fear for 
the future. 

Obedient to her nature, Madame de Montebard 
drew him at once from the icy chills of disdain to 
the tropical heat of passion. 

“ As shifting as the waves,” said he to her some- 
times, parodying the words of Shakespeare. 

In the meanwhile, Madame de Montebard re- 
ceived a letter which informed her that her husband, 
on returning from the mission which had taken 
him to Vienna, had fallen sick at Rome. Unable 
to continue his journey, he requested the mar- 
chioness to attend him. 


A LOVIAi^S 


159 


CHAPTER IX. 

The Marchioness’ absence. — Arrival at ISTaples of Madame de 
Montebard, Monsieur and Madame (rAstoiians. — The begin- 
ning of a mysterious drama. — Madame de Montebard and 
Madame d’ Astouans. — Sequel to the mysterious drama. — The 
pistols. — The end of the drama. — Death of the Marquis de 
Montebard. — Joy and grief. — Fabien’s absence from Naples. 
— Charles’s perfidy. — Fabien’s return. — The Villa Orso again. 

Madame de Montebard did not lose a minute 
in making preparations for her departure. If the 
tenderness, in some respects filial, which she had 
always shown towards her husband entered in any 
way into her precipitation, there was also a very 
lively though secret wish to escape from this love 
which still agitated her, but which charmed her 
no longer. 

Informed of her intended departure by a note, 
Fabien hastened to her and saw her leave the same 
night. 

During the few days that she was away from 
him, Fabien lived in Naples as in a desert. His 
heart was in Rome. 


160 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


The arrival of Monsieur and Madame d’ Astouans 
brought only fresh distraction to his mind, by 
obliging him to do the honors of the town to both 
travelers. 

M. de Montebard. however, who had retained 
all the faculties and activity of his mind in the 
midst of his sufferings, had obtained from his wife 
the promise that she would biing him back to 
Naples, as soon as his state of health would permit 
him to endure the motion of the carriage. As a 
faithful servant of royalty, he wished himself to 
render an account of the results of a mission, the 
full particulars of which could not very well be 
detailed by correspondence. 

One of the first persons whom he met on his 
arrival was M. de Varny. The old man, who had 
a very distinct recollection of physiognomies, at 
the first glance recognized him as one of the guests 
of The Arms of England. He recalled the fact to 
Fabien, who could not help feeling disturbed and 
deeply disquieted, as he noticed the marquis’s look 
coldly passing from him to Madame de Montebard, 
while a bitter smile wrinkled his weather-beaten 
and withered cheeks. 

As he was no longer dazzled by the passion 
which blinds the most acute minds, and as, in his 


A LOVIJB^S BJSIVABU. 


161 


quality of diplomatist, he had mastered the science 
of observation, the marquis knew how to seize 
upon the most fugitive sign that betrayed the 
impulses of the soul ; nothing escaped his mute 
analysis. 

So, when M. de Varny was about to take his 
leave of him, the marquis regarded him with a 
look so scrutinizing that Fabien felt cold drops 
of perspiration stand out upon his forehead, 
and his eyes fell before the patient’s penetrating 
gaze. 

From this time forward, a mysterious drama 
began to be enacted by these three persons in the 
Mansion de Montebard, and it assumed a character 
all the more terrible, from the fact that the life of 
the old antiquarian was rapidly drawing to a 
close, while his intellect remained as bright and 
clear as ever. 

Madame d’Astouans’ presence in Naples had had 
the effect of instilling in the vacillating heart of 
Madame de Montebard a jealous love for Fabien. 
Pride was still the ruling principle of this passion, 
but what mattered the cause, so long as to Fabien, 
the effect, was the same. 

Madame d’Astouans, unlike La Toresilla, a side- 
scene princess, who, with all her brightness, still 


162 




remained a courtesan, was a lady, young, witty and 
belonging to the best society. Her sweet and 
smiling countenance would have afforded a sketch 
worthy of the pencil of Greuze, and she held an 
undisputed sway over all she met by reason of her 
refinement and grace. 

In her, Madame de Montebard felt that she at 
last had a rival, and a formidable one too, all the 
more dangerous on account of her relationship 
with M. de Varny, and her open and avowed 
friendship for him, which brought them very much 
together. 

The effect of this jealousy was sudden and vio- 
lent ; it demanded the almost constant attendance 
of Fabien at her mansion. His sensitive soul suf- 
fered from this, but he was willing to submit to 
anything, so that he might feel the intoxication of 
that love which a feeling of rivalry for Madame 
d’Astouans had again brought to life. 

Given up by medical skill, the old marquis was 
yet too well-bred to receive him ungraciously. 
He was a courtier and a man of experience ; had 
accepted marriage as a wager, and, having lost, 
resigned himself to paying the stakes as became a 
gentleman. 


A LOV:EIi^S BmVAUD. 


163 


He only revenged himself by an exquisite 
urbanity, which sometimes gave forth smiles and 
glances whose keen eloquence Fabien well under- 
stood. Madame de Montebard witnessed this, and 
it frequently happened that, under the influence of 
some reaction, as lively as it was fleeting, she dis- 
played to Fabien a face wet with tears. Then, 
kneeling close by the old diplomatist, she would 
break into sobs and cover his hands with suppli- 
cating kisses. 

M. de Montebard, with a cruel simplicity, pre- 
tended to misunderstand the cause of this exalted 
sensibility ; and passing his trembling fingers over 
the bowed head of his wife, would say to her, with 
a smile : 

“ Be calm, madame, I am not as ill as you im- 
agine, and when I recover my health, I will try to 
repay you for all the kindness you have shown 
me.” Then, turning towards M. de Varny, he 
would add : 

“ You too^ my dear sir, will no doubt be glad of 
this.” 

After such a scene and after listening to the 
words that followed, Fabien would seek the most 
retired part of the room in order to hide his emo- 
tion, for his heart was ready to break. 


164 


A LO VINE'S BmVAEI). 


One day, Madame de Moiitebard being absent, 
Fabien found himself alone with the marquis. 

' His illness had made a great change in his appear- 
ance. He was reposing in a large invalid-chair, 
with his head reclining against its velvet back, and 
the dark folds of the latter served to intensify and 
throw out into more startling distinctness his 
emaciated and wrinkled face, which strongly 
resembled a piece of yellow parchment. 

The last rays of the setting sun penetrated the 
apartment through the folds of the heavy crimson 
curtains that shaded the windows, and cast a pur- 
plish tint over the different articles that lay in its 
way, until it finally died away on the wide shelves 
of an oakwood library case whose black and heavy 
frames rose to the ceiling. 

A bright fire was crackling upon the hearth, and 
the spreading fiames did cast a warm glow over 
the ancient bearings, the Greek and Koman pan- 
oplies, which were placed on marble pedestals, or 
hung suspended from the walls ; while upon the 
antique consoles were arranged Grecian urns, 
Etruscan vases, cups snatched from the ruins of 
Pompeii, lamps of brass, alabaster amphorse, the 
divinities of pagan Olympia. These, together 
with many other relics in stone or metal of a 


A LOVIJB^S RmVABI). 


165 


world destroyed, reflected the light into the fur- 
ther end of the room, where two marble statues, 
chef-d' oeuvres of some unknown Phidias, stood in 
pure and sublime nudity, and appeared like two 
marble sentinels guarding the threshold of this 
museum of the past. 

A suite of heavy hangings drowned the noise 
from the outside ; the monotonous ticking of a 
clock, and the sparkling of tlie fire, alone disturbed 
the silence which was occasionally broken by the 
labored breathing of the old man. 

His glances wandered from his books to his 
medals, — his two passions ; from them he would fix 
them upon Fabien, who sat by the window between 
the curtains. According as the sands of his life 
ran low, the furtive looks of the diplomatist were 
directed with a more concentrated gaze upon M. de 
Varny ; a strange brightness lit his eyeballs, which 
were as wide and motionless as the eyes of those 
night-birds that shine in the darkness. The shadow 
of a thought played upon his forehead, yellow and 
polished as the skull of an ivory saint, and the 
wrinkled corners of his mouth curled with an ex- 
pression of bitter irony. Fabien’s heart beat vio- 
lently. The look of the antiquary weighed like 
so much lead upon his head. 


A LOV^ER^S REWARD. 


160 

The dying man slowly raised liis arm, and made 
a sign for Fabien to approach. 

As if obeying the pressure of a spring, Fabien 
started up. 

The old man turned his face towards the chim- 
ney, and, pointing to a carved box of burnished 
steel, which occupied a corner of tlie casing, said, 
in a clear voice : ‘ 

“ I will thank you to give me that box.” 

Fabien handed it to him in silence. 

The old man set it on his knees, took the key, 
opened the lock, and turned the cover upon its 
hinges. 

There was only a pair of small pistols inside the 
box ; they were of Damascene workmanship, and 
richly engraved. 

“ Madame de Montebard gave me these,” con- 
tinued he, in the same clear voice, passing his 
emaciated fingei's along the barrels of the weapons. 

Drawing one from its receptacle, he played with 
its pliant and strong spring. 

“ She gave tliem to me at the time of our mar- 
riage,” he went on, “ to protect myself from an 
enemy in case of an attack ; it was a useless pre- 
caution, because in our days enemies no longer 
exist, friends have supplanted them.” 


A LOVEirS REWARD. 


167 


The old man raised his glittering eyes to M. de 
Varny, and a low laugh escaped him, which was 
as sharp and grating as the noise of a file upon a 
saw. 

“ They are loaded,” added he, cocking them 
once more. “ In this tube so nicely ornamented lies 
a bullet ready to kill the strongest and youngest 
man, the handsomest cavalier of Naples.” 

And, still laughing his sardonic laugh, he pointed 
the weapon at Fabien, who was standing motion- 
less and mute in his presence, following all his 
motions and listening to all his words with a 
shudder. 

Suddenly the old man, by a supreme effort, rose 
up. Fabien saw the threatening muzzle of the 
pistol two feet from his forehead. 

“ If I were to kill you, M. de Varny, would I 
not be justified ? ” said the marquis in a low voice. 

“ You would be justified,” answered the secre- 
tary of embassy, paler than the statues of Paros, 
but as unshaken as they. 

M. de Montebard maintained a terrible silence 
for an instant, the pistol always at the level of 
Fabien’s forehead, who stood bowed but firm be- 
fore him. A sinister thought seemed to flash 
over his livid face, then he let fall his arms, and 


168 


A ZOmB^S BZirABZ. 


sank again upon his easy-chair with a burst of 
mocking laughter. 

Fahien raised his head. 

“ It would be a melodrama, sir,” said the mar- 
quis, “ and for a gentleman it would be in very 
bad taste. I do not love enough to hate, and I 
will leave to Madame de Montebard the task of 
avenging me.” 

Fabien shuddered ; the words of the marquis 
penetrated his heart like the cold blade of a knife. 

He was still standing before the marquis, when 
a curtain was opened, and Madame de Montebard ’s 
head appeared between the velvet folds. She 
stopped for an instant, astonished at the glance 
Fabien threw toward her. 

But the marquis, with the tact of a man used to 
all emergencies, graciously saluted her. 

“ Come here, my dear friend,” said he ; “I wished 
to leave M. de Varny a souvenir of my gratitude 
and I chose this box. It will be doubly precious 
to him in coming from me, for it originally belonged 
to you.” 

Fabien took the articles from the hands of the 
implacable old man. When he left the hotel, it 
seemed to him that in place of a heart he had a 
devouring brand in his breast. 


A LOVUB'S HJSJFABB. 


169 


A few days afterwards, the Marquis de Monte- 
bard died. 

Madame d’Astouans prolonged her stay in 
Naples, as the pure air of this place did much to 
restore her health, which had become impaired by 
the climate of Paris. Madame de Montebard, who 
often met her leaning on Fabien’s arm, and who 
knew that he acted as a cavalier to her in her 
excursions, attributed his presence at her house 
to a cause which M. de Varny strove in vain to 
convince her did not exist. 

“ If you do not love her,” she said to him, “ you 
should have already given up an intimacy which 
offends me.” 

“ Do you wish, then, that in order to please your 
fancy, I should be guilty of an ingratitude which 
would cut me to the heart ? Are you ignorant of 
what her father, M. de Salville, has done for 
me ? ” 

“ I shall have nothing more to say if you persist 
in giving to a sentiment proceeding from the heart, 
the name of fancy.” 

“ Can it be possible that it is you, Marcelina, 
who speak in this manner? How can I term other- 
wise the sentiment now existing between us ? ” 
exclaimed Fabien, with a desolate smile. “ Were 


170 


A LOVmi^S HmVABD. 


I still in the morning of my illusion, I might 
attribute your feeling in this matter to jealous}^ ; 
is not jealousy the sign of love ? And would 
you venture to say that you still love me, 
Marcelina ?” 

As he said this, Madame de Montebard, who had 
been attentively watching the sparks rising from 
the dying embers in the grate, beat the carpet 
Avith her pretty foot, and apparently losing all 
self-control, cried out Avith a burst of cruel 
frankness : 

^'‘MonDieu! how am I to know? I love you 
one day and forget you the next! Do you think 
that we are always able to control our hearts ? 
You are dear to me, and yet in this soul, Avhich 
infinite desires and aspirations Avithout name be- 
siege, you are not alive. I love you, and yet other 
images are floating in my memory ; I do not love 
you, and still I am jealous of your love, and I 
cannot bear the thought of you caring for 
another ! ” 

Fabien’s face grew deadly pale at these 
words. 

“ Pride I pride ! ” he murmured, sadly. 

At this, Madame de Montebard threAv herself on 
his neck, clasped him in her arms, and, Avith a kiss. 


A BIJIJAJW. 


171 


Ills suffering was borne away as the dead leaves 
before the zephyr’s breath. 

The following day a similar scene would be 
enacted. 

Whilst tliese things were occurring, Mr. Rock- 
well was patiently at Avork, endeavoring to sap the 
foundation of Fabien’s already tottering empire. 
He Avas sharp and calculating enough to under- 
stand that this Avearying, tormenting passion, on 
the part of Madame de Montebard, only required 
a pretext for expiring. This pretext he tried to 
find in that Avhich mostly preoccupied Madame de 
Montebard’s mind : — the connection of M. de 
Varny Avith Madame d’Astouans. 

With indomitable patience, he Avatched for an 
occasion to arouse the vanity of Madame de Mon- 
tebard. The unappeased anger of La Toresilla 
served him Avonderfully in this affair. Very in- 
geniously did he present to her mind the possi- 
bility of revenging herself upon the forgetfulness 
of her lover, by separating Madame de Montebard 
from him; and one night, Avhile searching her 
desk, to Avhet his mischievous desires, he laid his 
hand on a note from the text of Avhich the mean- 
incr he AAUshed to attach to it could be draAvn. It 


172 


A LOVBB^S BmVABI). 


was from Fabien, addressed to La Toresilla. She 
allowed him to take it, and Charles had no further 
doubt of the victory. 

Charged with a special mission for the king of 
Naples, who was at Palerma, Fabien had just left 
for there on the order of his ambassador. 

One day, when Madame d’Astouans was at the 
marchioness’ house, Charles Rockwell presented 
himself. With all the craft of a low comedian, he 
took advantage of the moment when the Parisian 
lady was rising to drop on the carpet a letter 
which had the appearance of having fallen from 
her handkerchief. In returning to her seat, Ma- 
dame de Montebard noticed the letter lying at the 
foot of the easy-chair that Madame d’Astouans had 
just vacated, and, immediately afterwards, Mr. 
Rockwell excused himself and retired. 

The letter was in an unsealed envelope, addressed 
to Madame d’Astouans, and, written by Charles 
Rockwell, after nearly a whole night spent in 
copying Fabien’s handwriting. A closer examina- 
tion would have discovered the fraud, but at first 
sight the writing was calculated to deceive. Mr. 
Rockwell knew that the billet would be read, and 
so it was. It contained only a few lines, in which 
Fabien informed La Toresilla of his departure 


A LOVIiJB^S BEIVABI). 


173 


from Naples, and that he would be absent for sev- 
eral days. He had written it at the time of his 
excursion to the castle of the marchioness, in the 
Abruzzo. 

Madame de Montebard saw in it indisputable 
proof of his guilty connection with Madame d’As- 
touans. Had Fabien not started the eve before 
for Palerma ? 

She did not take the trouble to reflect on the 
style of the billet^ and her injured vanity brought 
on the consequences that Mr. Rockwell both ex- 
pected and desired. 

Fabien stopped longer than he had anticipated 
in Palerma. They were then at the culminating 
point of the famous Affaire des Souffres^ and notes 
were flying from the embassies to the Neapolitan 
cabinet. 

M. de Varny, who could not withdraw his 
thoughts from Toledo Street, strove in the midst 
of the confounded entanglements of conferences 
and of protocols, to conclude his labors and return ; 
but it did not depend upon him to hurry matters. 
Diplomacy is not accustomed to haste. However, 
the first secretary of the French legation having 
started for Sicily with some new instructions, 
Fabien was called back to Naples. 


174 


A LOVBB^S BEWABB. 


The night was far advanced when he arrived. 
As he had started, by tlie boat, charged with cor- 
respondence, he had no time to inform Madame de 
Montebard of his return. 

His first care, however, was to hasten to the 
Toledo Street mansion. The marchioness had left 
for the villa Orso. Fabien sprang on a horse, and 
started at full speed to see her. 

At the first avowal of their love, Madame de 
Montebard had given Fabien a key of the green 
door which connected the external gardens sur- 
rounding the villa with the portico. 

“It is there that you exposed your life for 
mine,” she had said to him, “ let this key reward 
you.” 

Fabien left his horse at the osleria^ and al- 
most flew over the space that separated liim from 
the door. The moon was shining softly down 
upon the genets and the tamarinds, and the air 
seemed laden with the perfume of the sea and of 4 
the hills. He glided into the garden, and, ex- 
hausted with emotion, threw himself for a moment 
on a bench and laid his burning forehead, inside 
of which a thousand contradictory thoughts were 
whirling, upon the cold feet of a marble goddess ; 
the throbbings of his heart were almost suffocating 


A LOVJ^B^S bi:pfabi). 


175 


him, when in the midst of the silence that sur- 
rounded him, the faint sound of a key turning in 
a lock caused him to start up. 


176 


A LOVJi:ii'S HEW A ED. 


CHAPTER X. 


A lover’s anguish. — Fabien and Charles. — “To-morrow, we 
must fight! ” — Every medal has two faces. — On the spot. — 
The death of Charles Kockwell. — The bloody handkerchief. 
— Fabien at Madame de Montebard’s. — Fabien’ s farewell 
to the Marchioness. — A year after. — Fabien turns up again 
on the Boulevard des Italiens. — An uncle’s deception. — 
“Who the devil invented women?” — The meeting at the 
ball. — “To-morrow! To-morrow!” — The last illusion. — 
Madame de Montebard and her uncle, M. de Hautemare. — 
The new aspirant. — “Fabien?” said she. — “He is dead, 
madame ! 


Fabien listened ; the door turned stealthily 
upon its hinges, and distinct steps resounded on 
the gravel. A swift shadow passed betw^een the 
orange trees ; it came nearer ; Fabien shuddered ; 
distracted, dazed, he pressed his liand upon his 
heart to still its terrible beatings ; he stopped, 
looked, and Charles Rockwell, smiling and trium- 
phant, presented himself to his eyes. 

A mist gathered before Fabien’s eyes, a tremor 
passed over his body, and cold drops of perspira- 
tion stood out like beads upon his forehead ; he 


A LOVIJU'S BBWAHI). 


177 


staggered and almost fell, just as Charles was 
reaching the balcony. With a sudden effort, M. 
de Varny sprang forward and laid his hand on 
Rockwell’s arm. 

Charles stepped back and drew his dagger, the 
steel of which glistened between them ; but hav- 
ing recognized Fabien, his arm fell. 

“M. de Varny!” exclaimed he. “ What the 
devil prevented you from speaking ? I came near 
killing you.” 

Fabien was livid; his hand pressed Charles’ arm. 
Anger, despair, hate, stifled his voice. 

With the exquisite grace of a gentleman, Charles 
pointed out the moving blind to him. 

“ I believe you have something to tell me, M. 
de Varny,” said Charles. “ I await your orders, but 
let us speak in a low voice.” 

They went behind a cluster of pomegranate 
trees. 

“ I am listening,” said Charles. 

“ You know whence that pathway leads, Mr. 
Rockwell? you know who is waiting at this bal- 
cony?” said at last M. de Varny, with a voice 
which sounded like the rattle in the throat of a 
dying man. ‘‘ Is it you, who are expected there?” 

“ Discretion is a virtue ; but I shall not make 
12 


178 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


any mystery with you of a thing that you have 
guessed so well.” 

“ She loves you ? ” 

“ I do not know that ; but appearances would 
permit me to believe it, if, in such an affair, wis- 
dom did not always command us to doubt.” 

“ She loves you ! ” continued Fabien, distract- 
edly. “ She ! Marcelina ! ” 

“ Do not take it so hard, my dear fellow ; do 
you not remember what I said to you on this sub- 
ject ? — I have waited.” 

Fabien was in a state of terrible anguish ; his 
knees trembled; but his impassive companion 
looked on, smiling. 

“ I had made up my mind to inform you on 
your return ; but you appear, like the flash of a 
meteor, when least expected. It is extremely im- 
prudent in you.” 

Fabien passed his hand over his forehead and 
made a powerful effort to escape from the delirious 
thoughts buzzing through his brain, then in a calm, 
grave voice, replied : 

“ To-morrow, sir, my friend will wait on you.” 

“ Are you joking, my dear fellow? ” 

“ To-morrow, we will fight ! and one of us must 
fall.” 


A LOVJEB^S mJWAIil). 


179 


Charles remained silent; he looked at Fabien 
for a short time, in the moonlight ; his face was 
white as marble. He shrugged his shoulders, 
muttered a few words between his teeth, then 
smilingly replied : 

“ If you are so fully resolved on it, my dear M. 
de Varny, we will slaughter each other. But, 
upon my soul, I did not believe at this advanced 
age we could be induced to act so foolishly.” 

“ Your word is given ? ” 

‘‘ I promise.” 

“ To-morrow, then ! ” 

“ To-morrow, let it be ! ” 

The two young men saluted each other, and 
separated. Charles took the road to the villa, and 
Fabien directed his steps to the green door. 

“ On my word of honor, he is a fool ! said 
Charles. “ And I believed him a man of sense I ” 
Fabien staggered like one whose senses had for- 
saken him. He walked heedlessly into the coun- 
try, wandering here and there, distracted and 
despairing, with anguish in his heart, fever in his 
blood ; then fell, exhausted, on the sands. When 
he opened his eyes, the shining sun was gleaming 
on the sea which caressed his feet with its foamy 
spray. 


180 


A LOV^EJE^S EEWAEB. 


The recollection of the night returned with full 
force. He rose up, bathed his head in the refresh- 
ing waves, threw a last look at the white villa 
which had afforded him so much happiness, and 
hurried along the road to Naples. 

Charles Rockwell was waiting ; and when Horace 
Didier entered, he took him lightly by the hand. 

“ The night has not counseled wisdom, then ? ” 
said he. 

You seem to know my errand ! ” the artist 
replied in astonishment. 

“ A duel, I imagine ? ” 

“ You save me the expense of a protocol. In 
me, you see the second of our friend Fabien, who 
is extremely anxious to get rid of you.” 

‘‘ I am ready.” 

“ You accept, then ? ” 

“ I am too much his friend to refuse him so 
light a pleasure.” 

“It is, indeed, a singular affair ! jM. de Varny 
was so white when he entered my house this morn- 
ing, that I took him for a gliost, and from the 
manner in which he spoke, I understood that there 
would be no explanation necessary, and I have 
come.” 


A LOVERS BE WARD. 


181 


“ Killed or not, this man will not go far. Some 
people seem very anxious to wander into tragedy, 
when it would be so easy for them to take life as 
a song ! ” 

•Mr. Rockwell completed his toilet, as he 
spoke. 

“ So,” continued he, as they went out together, 
“ you have no knowledge of the cause of this 
duel ? ” 

“ None whatever,” replied the artist. 

“ Well, then ! my dear fellow, it means that 
every medal has two faces.” 

“ Oh ! it is a medal that is in question I ” 

“ An adorable blonde medal that is called Ma- 
dame de Montebard.” 

On their way, they overtook Max de Rheiss, and 
the three went into the country. Between two 
promontories, in a solitary nook, near the sea- 
shore, they saw Fabien waiting for them. 

M. de Varny saluted Mr. Rock^vell. 

“ I have cliosen pistols,” said the former ; “ I 
hope that they will suit you.” 

Charles nodded affirmatively. 

“ These gentlemen will load the pistols and 
settle the conditions of the duel ; I care but little, 


182 


A LOVERS BEWARB. 


provided it be understood that this will be a deadly 
one,” said Fabien. 

“ Are you so very particular about it ? ” replied 
Charles, affecting an air of indifference. 

“ Can you ask me that ? ” 

‘‘ Upon my faith ! my dear M. de Varny, I would 
have you know that if 1 had been obliged to fight 
every time I submitted to treachery, I should not 
have the pleasure of standing before your pistol 
to-day.” 

When the weapons were ready, Horace and Max 
placed the rivals at twenty paces from each other, 
with permission to advance within ten paces, and 
give the signal. 

Fabien and Charles advanced a few steps, and 
their pistols went off so closely together, that only 
one report was heard. Charles turned and fell 
backward. Fabien sprang towards him. 

But Max de Rheiss had already raised the 
wounded man in his arms ; with a trembling hand 
he tore open his vest ; the bullet was lodged in 
his chest, close by the heart ; a few bubbles of air 
dropped from the gaping wound and a red foam 
purpled the lips of the dying man. Max de Rheiss 
shook his head ; he understood by these symp- 
toms, that the ball had penetrated the lungs. 


A LOVERS REWARD. 


183 


Mr. Rockwell felt for M. de Variiy’s hand, and 
pressed it. 

“ You have done a foolish thing,” he said, speak- 
ing with difficulty ; “ I pardon you, however ; but 
between ourselves, I will tell you that the most 
beautiful woman in the world does not deserve 
that a brave man should expose his life for her. 
My death, however, will be the means of adding 
another star to Madame de Montebard’s diadem of 
glory ; so do not repent too deeply what you have 
done.” 

Blood gushed from his mouth and crimsoned the 
hands of M. de Varny. 

“ My throat burns ! ” hoarsely cried Mr. Rock- 
well, in whose throat the death-rattles were dis- 
tinctly heard. “ Here,” added he, taking a hand- 
kerchief bearing the motto of the marchioness, 
pierced by the bullet and reddened with his blood ; 
“ talce her back this souvenir, and tell her that, 
like a true knight, I died bearing her colors.” 

Charles again smiled, his head fell heavily back- 
wards, and he expired. 

An liour afterwards, Fabien entered Madame 
de Montebard’s house. 

She had returned to Naples, perplexed with a 


184 


A Lovmrs EE W ABB. 


vague anxiety occasioned by a few careless words, 
let drop by Charles Rockwell. 

When she saw M. de Varny enter her apart- 
ment, she turned pale, terrified by his own pallor 
and by the gloomy glance he threw towards her. 

She remained half-reclining in her easy-chair, 
without strength to rise, and without voice to in- 
terrogate him. Seized with a deep terror which 
froze her blood, the only manifestation of life 
visible was the palpitation of her bosom. 

Fabien, still silent, advanced towards her slowly. 

According as he advanced, the eyes of Madame 
de Montebard dilated, and her shriveled hands 
grasped the arms of her chair. 

Fabien stood regarding her for a few minutes, 
then dropped the bloody handkerchief on her lap. 

Madame de Montebard rose, trembling in every 
limb, and uttered a cry of terror. 

“ Charles ! ” she shrieked. 

“ I have hilled him ! ” said Fabien. 

Madame de Montebard fell again upon the easy- 
chair, almost unconscious. A convulsive trem- 
bling shook her whole body, but her bright eyes 
were tearless. 

Fabien sat down in front of her. He was re- 
venged, and yet, perhaps he suffered even more 



1 • 


“I liav<‘ kill<*(l hill] 


PaiiH 184 





A LOVEB\S REWARD. 


185 


than she. Despair tortured his heart. Never had 
he loved her so much. 

When Madame de Montebard recovered her 
senses, Fabien was still before her; she cast down 
her eyes and again saw the bloody handkerchief 
lying at her feet. 

A sob arose from her breast and tears flowed in 
streams from her eyes. 

At this spectacle, by a reaction which had its 
origin in jealousy, Fabien felt all his anger revive. 

“ You loved him, then, very deeply?” 

“ Oh ! ” said she, wringing her hands with a 
gesture full of anguish, and carried away by the 
strange frankness which, in this unsteady char- 
acter, was the only thing that ever remained com- 
plete, “ I do not know ! Who will tell me what I 
am? My heart wavers and is hurried away to- 
wards everything ! If I were to tell you all, you 
would perhaps scorn me. Then,” she added, her 
lips curling with a smile of bitter disdain, “ I have 
arrived at that point where I doubt even my own 
feelings ! Do I love ? do I not love ? How can 
I tell ? ” 

“ Poor heart ! ” said Fabien. “ If that is the 
case, I will hate you no longer ; I pity you ! ” 

At this word “ pity,” the pride of the mar- 


186 


A LOV£JB’S BBJVABI). 


chioness received a severe shock ; she haughtily 
tossed her head, and cried in an indignant tone : 

“ Pity me I Oh ! I much prefer suffering to 
pity ! ” 

“ Neither love nor pity ! What do you want, 
then ? ” said Fabien, at the same time pointing 
with his finger to the crimson-stained handker- 
chief she was trampling under foot. 

Madame de Montebard drew back with a cry of 
horror ; and again the tears began to flow. 

M. de Varny arose ; a supreme emotion could be 
read in his contracted features. He moved to- 
wards the marchioness, took her hand, and placed 
his lips to her pale forehead. 

He felt a trembling in all his being, and his 
arms opened as if he wished to take and press Ma- 
dame de Montebard to a heart which still belonged 
wholly to her ; but, subduing his love, he re- 
treated quickly to the door. 

“ Farewell ! ” he cried. 

As he passed the threshold, Madame de Monte- 
bard sat up. 

“ Fahien ! ” she murmured. Though her voice 
was faint, Fabien heard it. 

He returned. She was standing up, leaning 
against the marble mantel. Her silken hair was 


A BJEWABI). 


187 


plaited above a forehead pure and clear as ala- 
baster, and she looked, in her grief, as beautiful as 
the antique Niobe. But she had doubtless noticed 
this, for she glanced frequently into tlie mirror, 
while her slender hand dallied with the ribbons 
at her waist. 

Farewell! Fabien repeated as he disap- 
peared. 

An hour later, his resignation had reached the 
embassy, and the same night he started for Paris. 

A year had gone by, and M. de Varny could 
again be met on the Boulevard des Italiens^ godig 
and coming between the frontiers of his kingdom 
of three hundred steps. As formerly, the far 
niente had reconquered him, and as formerly he 
was living au jour le jour with the Bolieme de 
Paris. 

M. de Salville, who, at first, had been extremely 
angry with his nephew for resigning his office, 
began to be reconciled to it by degrees, and con- 
tinued to establish the equilibrium constantly com- 
promised in liis annual budget. He sometimes 
chided his nephew, but waited, believing that the 
future would renew the diplomatic chain so vio- 
lently broken. 


188 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


Madame d’Astouans, to whom Fabien had 
avowed all, displayed a greater and more kindly 
affection for a cousin who could love so profoundly. 
Perhaps it would not have been necessary for 
Fabien to make a strong effort to give a more 
tender character to this affection, but it never en- 
tered his thoughts to do so, and Madame d’Astou- 
ans, although in the bottom of her heart a little 
nettled at his constant faithfulness to a memory, 
made herself his patroness to her father and his 
advocate in the world. 

Reports of his adventures in Naples had pene- 
trated Parisian drawing-rooms. Fabien had been 
much talked of, and, as is customary with matters 
of this kind, the accounts had been very much ex- 
aggerated, and Fabien soon found himself, to his 
surprise, surrounded by a halo of romance and 
mystery that made him a welcome guest, wher- 
ever M. de Salville compelled him to visit. It 
would have been easy for him to play the part of 
a Lara or a Rehan ; but, to tell the truth, he cared 
nothing about it, having never had any ambition 
in liis life. 

In short, his existence was, in all respects, sim- 
ilar to the one he led before his departure for 
Naples ; only that a more continual sadness could 


A LOVEB^S BUIFABD. 


189 


be noticed in him, a sort of calm and pensive de- 
jection, which made those who held his confidence 
say that the spring of his life was broken. 

One day, while walking with Horace Didier, 
who, since the death of Mr. Rockwell, had formed 
an intimate friendship with him, Fabieii suddenly 
pressed his arm. 

“ What is it ? ” asked the artist. 

Fabien did not answer ; Horace, seeing his deadly 
pallor, looked around him. 

At this moment, a lady crossed the street ; and 
though Horace could only see her back, yet the 
artist did not mistake the harmony of the lines 
and the grace of her form, — he recognized Madame 
de Montebard. 

“ I hope,” said he to Fabien, “ that you will not 
do anything foolish, now.” 

“ As you please,” said Fabien, who scarcely un- 
derstood him. 

“ Who the devil invented women anyhow ! ” 
exclaimed the enraged painter, parting with his 
friend, whom he left as lost and dazed as a man 
who had just put his hand on a torpedo. 

That night there was a grand ball in the Fau- 
bourg St. Honors., at which Fabien promised to be 
present. He went there with Madame d’Astouans. 


190 


A LOVIJB^S BBfVAIilX 


As he entered the drawing-room, he saw Madame 
de Montebard dancing in the midst of a quadrille. 

Their looks met, and Fahien felt his heart sink 
within him. 

He went and hid himself in the conservatory, 
where, with his eyes closed and his head in his 
hands, he sat contemplating the radiant picture 
which was floating in his memory, like a luminous 
vision in a dark room. 

Whilst thus alone, absorbed in thoughts, he felt 
a hand lightly touch his shoulder. He raised his 
head. 

Madame de Montebard stood before him. 

“ Fahien!'^ said she, with her divine voice. 

“ Marcelina ! ” he murmured, looking at her 
with a happiness mingled with terror. 

There was so much of fascination in her eyes, 
that indignation, hate, anger, fled away from the 
heart of Fabien, like mists before the rising sun. 

“ Do you love me ? ” asked the marchioness. 

“ For God’s sake ! do not ask me that question ! ” 
said he ; then taking the enchantress’ head in his 
arms, he seemed to concentrate all his love in one 
long, fond kiss. 

Who could describe what passed between them ? 
— But as some intruders invaded the privacy of 


A LOVERS EEWABD. 


191 


the apartment, she escaped, leaving him with a 
heart full of a divine promise. 

“ To-morrow! To-morrow said he to himself, 
running on the boulevards, intoxicated, insane. 
The past and the present were as nothing before 
this word. 

The following day he waited. Hours succeeded 
hours. His heart throbbed with impatience. Mar- 
celina did not come. Towards evening he went 
out, he noticed a calecJie on the Place de la Con- 
corde^ near which, on horseback, was a young 
man dressed in the extreme of fashion. Fabien 
stopped horror-stricken ; for Madame de Montebard 
was leaning out of the coach door and laughing 
and talking with him. 

To go back a few years. — Madame de Monte- 
bard had an uncle who was a certain commander 
of Malta, and this uncle, when she was still Made- 
moiselle de Miriolles, had invested what property 
he possessed, in an annuity, so that he might be 
enabled to live in comfort. 

When Madame de Montebard returned to Paris, 
she found him still as selfish and unfeeling as 
when she had left him there. A man of easy 
habits and of exquisite manners, he was well re- 


192 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


ceived in society, where he had the reputation of 
being something of an epicure. 

Since the -death of her husband, he had installed 
himself as his niece’s protector ; and he took a real 
pleasure in the sensation she created, whenever 
she appeared in public. 

About noon, — the hour that Fabien expected to 
see her, — M. de Hautemare entered her house 
without announcing himself. 

“ I am glad to find you en neglige^ for an undress 
suits best to converse about marriage.” 

“ I have no time to listen to you,” answered she, 
a little provoked at seeing him establish himself 
in an easy-chair ; “ let us postpone such serious 
business until to-morrow.” 

“ I should think as you do if Hymen were a 
grave affair; but, notwithstanding my good-will, 
the world has forced me to consider it as a funny 
necessity of our social order. It is a business that 
we must talk of laughingly. We will speak of it, 
then, if you please.” 

“ But, uncle, I have no inclination to marry 
again ! I swear it to you.” 

“ You deceive yourself,” he retorted. “ A pretty 
woman would be inconsolable, if she had no one 
to tease. For a widow, there is no prohibited 


A LOVERS S REWARD. 


193 


fruit, and if you suppress the apple, you suppress 
the pleasure.” 

Madame de Montebard tried in vain to defend 
herself by fretting and pouting ; she had, how- 
ever, to hear M. de Hautemare to the end. He was 
an agreeable talker. He conducted himself so 
well, mixing jesting with business, that Marcelina, 
notwithstanding her impatience, could not help 
laughing. 

When she had laughed, she was half-con- 
quered. 

“ I have a gift to make you,” continued the 
commander, taking a pinch of snulf Avith all the 
grace of a marquis of the ancient regime. “ The 
gentleman I refer to is a man who is young, hand- 
some, rich, and of noble family. Between our- 
selves, he is not very intellectual, but that is a 
rare quality. He is an auditor at the Counsel of 
State, and his position entitles him to go to the 
Tuileries and to the residences of the ministers. 

“ His wife, by her title, may visit in the Fau- 
bourg St. Germain., and mingle with the bon ton of 
the Chaussee FAntin., by her fashionable attire. 
Marry him, and you will be forever indebted to 
me. I have a great desire to possess a little 
nephew, in order to bequeath to him my experience 


194 


A LOVUB^S BEIFABD. 


and advice in default of the wealth I no longer 
have.” 

Having finished his speech, M. de Hautemare 
settled himself as if he had a right to introduce 
the new aspirant. 

If the reader finds that, for a selfish man, he in- 
terfered much in the business of others, his sur- 
prise will not be so great on learning that the 
auditor was his god-son, and that, to amuse him- 
self, the commander had resolved to help him 
gain a fortune without its costing him anything 
to do so. 

The auditor brought an admission ticket for a 
ball given for the benefit of the pensioners of the 
old civil list. It was accepted, and the conversa- 
tion turned on the new fashions and the anecdotes 
of the day. 

In these matters M. le Comte de Bergot gave 
proof of great erudition. He talked much, and 
sprinkled his conversation with the golden sand of 
flattery ; he excelled so well in turning a compli- 
ment that Madame de Montebard was dazzled 
with him. His conversation was a brilliant suc- 
cession of eulogistic epithets. The hours flew 
quickly by, and Marcelina started for the Bois de 
Boulogne^ singing like a linnet. Perhaps she in- 


A ZOV^H^S BZWABD, 


195 


tended to postpone the execution of her promise to 
the following day ! Perhaps, also, she forgot it ! 

Fabien went home. He was no longer conscious 
of any pain, but felt instead a noise in his ears, 
similar to that experienced by plunging the head 
into water. 

He hastily penned a few brief lines ; he smiled 
as he handed them to his servant, and the honest 
man, supposing that it was some question of good 
fortune, thought to himself what very happy 
people masters were. 

Carried away by her uncle, Madame de Monte- 
bard dined in town. When she returned to make 
her toilet, her time was so limited that she post- 
poned the reading of her correspondence until the 
next day. 

The following day, at noon, she took a fancy to 
open her letters ; she read Fabien’s note, and then, 
hastily throwing a shawl over her shoulders, 
rushed into the streets of Paris, and ran directly 
to M. de Varny’s residence. 

Just as she was entering, some one seized her 
by the arm and stopped her. It was Horace 
Didier. 

“ Fabien ? ” queried the marchioness. 

“ He is dead, madame.” 


196 


A UEWAUJJ, 


CHAPTER XI. 

CONCLUSION. 

What became of the marchioness ? — Grief; — illness; — con- 
valescence; — resignation ; — consolation ; — forgetfulness — and 
marriage of Madame de Montebard. — The latest concerts 
and the first lilacs. 

If there are any of our readers curious to know 
what became of the marchioness, it will be easy 
for us to tell them in a few words. 

It would be impossible to express the grief into 
which the death of Fabien plunged Madame de 
Montebard. 

Horace brought her back to her house in 2^ faint- 
ing condition. 

They put her in bed in a hysterical state^ and, 
for twenty-four hours, she lay convulsed in tears 
and sobs. 

As soon as she was able to be up, she declared 
energetically that she would put on mourning! 
— and she did it, effectively ! 





A LOVjEB^S bbjvabd. 


197 


A good friend reprimanded her for this prank ; 
but as black made her look ravishing, Madame de 
Montebard held out, and wore it — three or four 
days — INCOGNITO ! 

After a fortnight^ by violent pressing^ she was 
prevailed upon to go — to a concert. 

At the end of three weehs^ she was kind enough 
to consent to make a little toilet for — the opera. 

And the month was not quite over, before she 
was dancing at — a hall. 

It is true that the ball was given at the Austrian 
embassy, and that it was only — un dSjeuner dan- 
sant! — an after-breakfast dance ! 

M. le Comte de Bergot made himself very assidu- 
ous in his attentions to Madame de Montebard at 
— Carnival time ; — 

Which fact some persons commented on — during 
Lent. 

They loved each other — at the Berniers Con- 
certs ; — 

And were married — at Premier Lilas; — which 
is to say, at Easter ! 


THE END. 





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